


you've got to take the blame for a love song

by nosecoffee



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Cockblock Via Paparazzi, Comedy, Dirk as a Tired TV Star, Falling In Love, Farah as a Tired Television Writer, Fluff, Gossip, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Notting Hill AU, Rom-Com Elements, Todd as a Tired Ex and Aspiring Musician, happy valentines day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 00:46:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17797883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nosecoffee/pseuds/nosecoffee
Summary: (because the best love songs are written with a broken heart)*Todd slumps against the door once it's closed behind him. Amanda is never going to believe this. Todd hardly believes it. The idea that Dirk Gently was in his house, wearing his clothes, and Todd spent that time wondering about apricots in honey, it seems so stupid.There's a knock on the door and Todd jumps in fright. It's Dirk, looking a bit sheepish. Todd can hardly believe it. "You came back." He says.Dirk smiles, for a second. "I forgot one of my bags."(or the Notting Hill AU where Dirk is a nervous TV star and Todd is an ex/aspiring musician who just spilt coffee all over him)





	you've got to take the blame for a love song

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "All You Get From Love Is A Love Song" by the Carpenters
> 
> [Here's the link](http://benjiedrawings.tumblr.com/post/182843241838/guess-who-took-part-in-the-dghdabigbang-ya-boi) to @benjiedrawings wonderful art for this. I truly couldn't have asked for a more enthusiastic and talented artist working with me.
> 
> Almost every band, to show, and song referenced, apart from the Carpenters one, I created, so please don't judge me lmao. Anyway, please enjoy.

"...and, in the category of best show in 2017, the award goes to... _Project Blackwing_ !"  
  
Amanda throws popcorn at the screen and they both boo at the TV. " _Wendimoor_ totally should have won."  
  
"Farah's sure gonna be pissed." Todd replies, shrugging and taking back the popcorn bowl before she can waste more of it throwing it at the screen. "But I dunno. The newest season of _Project Blackwing_ was pretty great. Did you see the shit Marzanna did? I hear Bart Curlish does her own stunts."  
  
"Wouldn't surprise me." Amanda says, blandly. "No offence, but I don't know what you see in that show."  
  
"It's well written." Todd reasons, watching Scott Riggins hustle up to the microphone with his cast and crew behind him, all wearing matching smiles.  
  
"Or are you just in love with Icarus?" Amanda teases, bumping her elbow into his ribs. He tosses popcorn at her.  
  
"We're not having this argument again." He mumbles, and turns the TV up to hear Scott's boring speech.  
  
Amanda wiggles her eyebrows at him in his peripheral vision. He turns the volume up even louder. "Has Dirk Gently got your tongue?" She says.  
  
"I'll ban you from this house." Todd warns her.  
  
"I live here!" Amanda laughs.  
  
"Barely." He informs her.  
  
"This is because of the blatant sex scene in _Cereal Bowl Flower Exchange_ , isn't it?" She says and Todd's cheeks get hot.  
  
"Don't start." Todd mutters, turning the TV up louder.  
  
Amanda sighs, obviously remembering the night Todd and Tina stumbled into the house and attempted to write a draft of first impressions for Tina's movie review, but honestly couldn't because Todd couldn't get over the explicit sex scene in the award-nominated indie movie that someone paid a lot of money to have Dirk Gently in. "Farah warned you-"  
  
They go silent as Scott vacates the mic at the last second and the aforementioned Dirk Gently steps forward, grinning from ear to ear. "Thank you so much for this honour. We'd like to use this moment to inform our viewers that _Project Blackwing_ , as of tonight, has officially been renewed for a third season. Thank you for your support and your drive, we wish you all a good evening!"  
  
Applause drowns out the music to play them off. Amanda shakes her head and plunges a handful of popcorn in her mouth. "I don't know _what_ you see in him."  
  
"He's sweet." Todd argues.  
  
"You've never met him."  
  
"He seems sweet. You've never met Tom Hiddleston but you think he's a Disney prince."  
  
"That's 'cause he is. Dirk Gently, on the other hand, would curb stomp you if you came near him." She tells him through a mouthful of popcorn.  
  
"No, I have a feeling that's all four of Project Incubus." He replies, nonchalantly, caching the four men in question grinning to themselves, on screen.  
  
"They have actual names, too, you know." Amanda says, bumping her elbow into his ribs, again.  
  
"Yeah," Todd says, frowning, "but they're all ridiculous, so why should I care?"  
  
"Are you saying the name 'Dirk Gently' isn't ridiculous?" Amanda retorts, standing up and heading out of the room.  
  
"I'm gonna curb stomp you in a minute." He mumbles, sinking further into the couch.  
  
" _I_ know all their names." Amanda calls, from the kitchen, and he hears the sound of the Tupperware bowl of popcorn kernels landing in the sink.  
  
"Why?" Todd yells, and flips through a few channels for something interesting to watch.  
  
"Same reason you know Dirk's." Amanda tells him, leaning on the wall and staring at the episode of _Will & Grace _ Todd's only kind of considering.  
  
"You think they're hot?" He says, and tries not to sound too weirded out.  
  
She hums, and nods. "In their own, objective way." Amanda allows.  
  
"God, I hate you." Todd's phone rings and he picks up immediately. "Y'ello."  
  
"Are you _seeing_ this shit?" Farah screeches. " _Project Blackwing_ wins with its mediocre, CGI'd sequel when I worked my _ass_ off to please Francis _fucking_ Pollock and his _high fucking standards,_ this season? _Bull_ shit. I didn't write half those scripts to lose to _Scott fucking Riggins_ ."  
  
"You really need to stop putting 'fucking' in the middle of people's names, when you talk about them." Todd says, and, as quietly as possible, mouths "Farah" at Amanda's confused look. "Anyone listening would get the impression you don't like them."  
  
"When I next see Francis we're gonna have a serious talk about him firing Suzie Boreton because I swear her whole scandal with the Mage is the whole reason we lost, tonight." Farah continues, and Todd frowns at how her voice seems to be echoing.  
  
"Where are you?" He asks.  
  
"I'm the bathroom and I'm about to king hit Suzie Boreton." She replies, in what he assumes she thinks is a nonchalant voice but just comes out very condescending. "And maybe Maria Wilson after a couple more gin and tonics. She's gonna get what's coming to her sooner or later."  
  
"Don't do that." Todd groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.  
  
"And why not?" Farah says, tightly.  
  
He pinches his nose a bit tighter and sighs. "Because they'll never let you back on to write season three."  
  
"There probably won't even _be_ a season three." She says, and he knows that panicked edge to her tone. Has known it for years, for even before she landed that job writing for _Wendimoor_ . He knows he has limited time to calm her down. " _Project Blackwing_ has probably stolen our fan base."  
  
"Don't lose hope." Todd tells her, putting her on speaker as Amanda sits back down, beside him.  
  
"I'm losing hope." Farah replies, sadly.  
  
"Wanna come over, afterwards?" He offers and Amanda raises her eyebrows at him.  
  
"Todd, honey, sweetie, darling." Farah laughs, shortly, on the other end of the line and he winces, already knowing where this is going. "I'm in California."  
  
"Right." He agrees, rubbing his eyes.  
  
"Besides," she continues, a little less angrily, now, "I have to chauffeur my leading lads back to their hotel."  
  
"Why?" Todd asks, slowly, and sticking his tongue out at Amanda who's now crunching loudly on a packet of stale Doritos.  
  
"We're trying to avoid paparazzi. They think they're being covert about how often they're banging each other. I can't let that get out in the media." Amanda is so shocked at this proclamation she spits fragments of Doritos out all over the floor and begins laughing so hard she falls off the couch. "I can't really trust them to get back to the hotel doing that horny mid-twenties early relationship thing where they kinda have to make out, right here, right now, no matter the cost."  
  
"No way, the mortal enemies are sleeping together?" Todd says, grinning. He can only imagine Farah's exasperation.  
  
"Their actors sure are."  
  
"I _wasn't_ imagining that sexual tension last season." Amanda cries, getting to her feet and swallowing her giggles. "You owe me ten bucks, motherfucker!"  
  
"Is that Amanda?" Farah asks.  
  
"Yeah, we were watching together." Todd says, and pushes Amanda away by the face. She falls off the couch again but doesn't seem to mind. Maybe that second beer did go to her head.  
  
"Oh, cool." This doesn't sound like it actually interests Farah, as much as Farah does love them. "Apparently they've been together for a while, or so Farson tells me."  
  
"What a snitch." Amanda comments from the floor, eating more Doritos.  
  
"I know right? Oh my god, Tina just texted me, 'maybe you're the next _Galavant_ '. I'm gonna kill her when I get home." She sighs deeply, and someone turns on the hand dryer, so her next words are shouted over that. "Anyway, I gotta get back and stop moping in the bathroom."  
  
"Okay, bye!" She hangs up without properly saying goodbye. It's weird. He's been friends with her since their last year of college and he's still not used to it.  
  
"Farah's moping in the bathroom?" Amanda says, as Todd stands, stretching.  
  
"In typical fashion," he confirms, and clicks the TV off with his foot. "What did we expect?"  
  
~  
  
Dirk's trying to keep a low profile, even though there was nothing low profile about his arrival in Seattle, despite his best efforts. He has no idea who told paparazzi exactly where to be waiting to catch him right off the plane, but when he finds out, they will be in for a _world_ of pain.  
  
It's gotten worse since _Cereal Bowl Flower Exchange_ came out. Scott had begged him not to take it, at the time, saying it would ruin his career. Surprise! It _didn't_ ruin his career. What it _did_ do was it made viewership of _Project Blackwing_ blow up, because people suddenly wanted to know if Dirk's character in _Project Blackwing_ did any scenes like the one Dirk did in _Cereal Bowl Flower Exchange_ .  
  
(He actually _didn't_ do any scenes in _Project Blackwing_ like the ones he did in _Cereal Bowl Flower Exchange_ , and good thing, too, because they'd have to raise the ratings on the show. Mona used to tease him about it, saying that his fans wanted his acoustic, indie aesthetic back. She let it go when he stopped bringing coffee onto set, for her.)  
  
It has also made his personal life split wide open for the public. There are things random people on the internet know about him that Dirk didn't even know about himself.  
  
Either way, he's pissed, and trying to do some sightseeing, before he has to arrive on set, for a late night shoot, when he catches sight of a little music shop just off the wharf. He's immediately greeted by a girl with smudged dark eyeliner and a scowl, yelling about not having enough _Fleetwood Mac_ on vinyl for "those fucking hipsters".  
  
She sees him enter and frowns, leaning her hand on her chin. "Hey, can I help you?" She asks him, and blows a stray bit of her bangs out of her eyes.  
  
"Just browsing," Dirk replies, in a fake American accent that used to be quite good and no longer is, and wanders into the record section, flipping through a few.  
  
He looks up when he hears someone yelling, further inside the shop, "Dorian, I swear to god, if I find one more Mariah Carey CD in your shorts I will actually call the police!"  
  
The young woman behind the counter and Dirk share a look, and she rushes off towards the CD section. Only a moment later a ratty looking man rushes from the shop. A younger man with short clipped hair, wearing a blue and black checked shirt, rushes after him, stops in the doorway, and yells, "DON'T COME BACK."  
  
Dirk doesn't care that he stares until the young man turns and locks eyes with him. He frowns the same way the young woman did and then heads towards Dirk. "Hi."  
  
Dirk flips through another record. "Does he often try to steal Mariah Carey CD's from you?" He asks, without looking up, still using the fake American accent. He'd really rather not be recognised, today. He's had enough of it.  
  
The man flushes. "You'd be surprised." He responds in a strained voice.  
  
"Not much surprises me, anymore." Dirk says, honestly and then snaps his mouth shut, turning to the extensive collection of Ella Fitzgerald that this store has in stock.  
  
"Have I seen you before?" The man asks.  
  
"I doubt it." Dirk lies.  
  
The man pauses and then nods, resolutely. "You must just have that kind of face." He says, and looks to the pile of Ella Fitzgerald records he's half-heartedly looking through.  
  
Dirk drops it. "Do you have any _Carpenters_ ?" He asks, no longer faking an American accent.  
  
"Uh, yeah," the man says, frowning, "hold on."  
  
"Hey, Todd," calls the young woman, peeking over the towering CD racks across the store, looking at Dirk weirdly, "I think he took some Iggy Azalea CD's, as well."  
  
"Fuck," says the man - Todd - and follows it up with, "Do you reckon you can catch up with him?"  
  
The young woman's mouth twists in a sour way. "Is it _really_ that much of a loss?" She asks, in a hopeful tone, as if this is a common enough occurrence that she knows exactly what is expected of her, should Todd decide it is that much of a loss.  
  
"Amanda." Todd's voice is quite firm at this. She sags, obviously relenting.  
  
"I'll see if I can find him." Amanda agrees with a scowl and speed walks out of the store.  
  
There's silence as Dirk chuckles, quietly, to himself, and Todd sorts through a pile of records in an attempt to find some _Carpenters_ that Dirk has no real way of playing.  
  
"Never mind it." Dirk says, waving a hand. "Doesn't matter."  
  
"No, wait, I think I found one." Todd fumbles as he pulls the record case out, and flushes when he realises that Dirk saw him do that. "Uh, how do you feel about _Passage_ ?"  
  
"Nostalgic." Dirk replies, honestly, and Todd gives him a half-smile, heading over to the register.  
  
"Nineteen dollars and fifty cents." Todd says, after typing something onto the register and clicking a button that opens the register. Dirk rifles through his wallet until he comes up with a twenty, and hands it over. There's an old-looking electric guitar mounted high up on the wall behind Todd, with various signatures on it.  
  
He can only assume it's Todd's. "Are you a musician?" Dirk asks, as Todd counts up and hands over the expected change. Todd glances to where Dirk's looking and laughs, shortly.  
  
"Aspiring." He responds, lightly. "And ex, I guess, if you count the college band I formed when I was high."  
  
"Didn't take off?" Dirk inquires, shoving his wallet back in his jeans pocket.  
  
Todd looks sheepish, now, and rubs the back of his neck, awkwardly. "No, I tried to sell their equipment and they got shitty about it."  
  
"Well, that'll happen." Dirk says, trying not to sound as surprised as he feels.  
  
"I'll say." Todd agrees, putting the record in a white plastic bag, and handing it over the counter, to Dirk. "Have a nice day."  
  
"You too." Is his response, and he narrowly avoids walking directly into Amanda, looking breathless and holding four Iggy Azalea CD's, as she walks back into the shop.  
  
He wonders how he's going to justify the purchase of a record, when he doesn't even have a record player, to Mona. He'll figure something out.  
  
~  
  
"So, that was definitely Dirk Gently, yeah?" Amanda says, once the redhead in the sunglasses leaves the store. She sets the stolen CD's down on the counter.  
  
Todd nods a little, wondering whether Farah's ever met Dirk before, wondering if he was just being polite because he didn't want rumours or because he's actually a nice guy. "Yeah."  
  
"And we sold him a record, yeah?" She continues, tone scheming.  
  
"Yeah." Todd agrees, tiredly, and picks the CD's up, heading for the CD section.  
  
"We should put up signs." Amanda says, following him. "'Dirk Gently Approved'."  
  
"That sounds so dumb." He mumbles, slotting the CD's back into their rightful places. This was never his dream, running a music shop in Seattle with his little sister, but it is his life, and sometimes there are perks, like having a television star walk right in and express mild interest in him.  
  
Amanda snorts, leaning on the rack, beside him. "Yeah, well, fuck you, too."  
  
"You know Farah would complain." Todd reminds her, shoulders sagging as he walks back behind the counter. "She'd say 'I'm famous too. I've shopped here. Why don't I get a sign?' And we'd have to say, 'sorry, Farah, but nobody knows who the fuck you are, so it doesn't matter.'"  
  
Amanda frowns, and bumps his shoulder with hers, leaning on her elbows. "That was blunt and I'm telling her you said that the next time I see her."  
  
"Snitch." Todd mutters, fixing one of the counter displays so it sits upright, again. Minutes pass where there is nothing but Keith Urban playing in the background and Amanda humming along, next to him.  
  
"Are you okay?" She asks, suddenly, and Todd nearly jumps out of his skin. "You're kinda staring at the door, longingly, as if you're hoping he'll come back."  
  
He goes red. "I'm not-"  
  
"Oh, grow up, Todd, I'm not naïve." Amanda cuts him off, rolling her eyes and pushing off from the counter. "I remember reading the entire paragraph you wrote about his ass for Tina's review of _Cereal Bowl Flower Exchange_ , and I remember how detailed it was."  
  
"I was drunk." Todd attempts to protest.  
  
"But apparently not drunk enough to stop using the Oxford Comma." She points out, grabbing the broom from the back room and beginning to sweep, behind the counter.  
  
He sighs, and bangs his head, half-heartedly, on the counter. "I could go for some coffee right about now." He tells her, matter-of-factly.  
  
"Me too." Amanda replies without looking up from her task.  
  
"Rock Paper Scissors?" Todd suggests, hopefully, wondering if she'll forget her lunch run from yesterday.  
  
"Fuck no." She says, poking her tongue out at him. "It's your turn."  
  
"Geez fine." Todd sighs, holding up his hands in surrender. In all honesty, it'll be good to get out of the shop. "But you're restocking the earl grey tea bags when we get home."  
  
He grabs his wallet from the back room, promises to be back soon, and hurries off towards the coffee shop, down the street. Thankfully, everything around here is within walking distance, so Todd can afford to slow it down and appreciate his lovely, if chilly surroundings.  
  
Lydia, who works the long Sunday shifts at the coffee shop despite being a millionaire heiress, smiles when she sees him, and says, "The two usuals?" And that's just so nice. Being recognised, having a "usual". Todd is determined to make a life out of the ordinary things, even if they weren't what he was expecting.  
  
He thanks Lydia when she's done and leaves her a big tip because she's his favourite, walking back towards the store, briskly, as the wind has picked up.  
  
Todd rounds the corner, two cups of coffee in hand and immediately spills them all over a redhead in sunglasses who exclaim, loudly and shrilly, in a British accent, "Holy _fuck_ , that's hot!"  
  
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" Todd yells, instead of yelling, _oh my god, you're Dirk Gently!_ It seems like a better plan, to be honest.  
  
Dirk Gently drops his shopping bags and makes some high pitched noise that sounds quite pained.  
  
Todd's hands fly around, unhelpful as he tries to decide what to do. "Can I help?" He asks, feeling bad.  
  
"Well, if you happen to have a change of clothes in your pocket, that would be great, otherwise, no." Dirk Gently replies in a biting tone, holding out his stained white sweater and tutting at it.  
  
"I don't have a change of clothes in my pocket, but my house is just around the corner, so you could just change into some clean clothes there." Todd says, and snaps his mouth closed immediately after, what is he thinking, inviting a celebrity into his house for a change of his clothes? Is he an idiot?  
  
Dirk gives him a look over the top of his sunglasses, still holding his sweater away from his skin. "How far is 'around the corner'?" He eventually asks. "Give it to me in meters."  
  
"Literally just around the corner." Todd says and points over Dirk's shoulder. "That brownstone, there?"  
  
Dirk looks over his shoulder and a big sigh heaves out of his chest. "Oh, alright."  
  
Todd gathers up Dirk's shopping bags and thanks god he left his keys in his pocket, today, instead of in his backpack like Amanda keeps telling him to. Wouldn't be too long of a walk to go and get them, if that's where they were, but the chances of Dirk staying so Todd could help him dwindled in that situation.  
  
He forgot how much of a mess their place was, so he's a little red in the face when he ushers Dirk inside, placing his shopping down in the entryway. "I'll get some clothes from my room, bathroom’s on the top floor, to the right."  
  
"How many storeys is this?" Dirk asks, standing on the bottom step.  
  
"Just three." Todd answers, as if that was a normal amount of room to have. He and Amanda bought it after Amanda graduated from high school and Todd dropped college. It seemed like a good investment while Todd was setting up shop. Dirk nods to himself as he climbs the stairs and Todd tries to be quiet as he follows him up, only to his room on the second floor.  
  
Trying to find something for Dirk Gently to wear out of his closet is not an easy task, Todd finds, so he ends up going with an old homemade band t-shirt of his, some jeans that he bought but were too long and the jacket his mom gave him for Christmas last year that he hates with a passion.  
  
Upon passing them through the crack in the bathroom door, Dirk says, "Could you get me a plastic bag to put my things in?" Todd says _yes_ , even though he doesn't know if they even have any clean plastic bags in the house. He manages to find one, stuffed under the sink in the kitchen, just as Dirk trudges down the stairs in Todd's clothes.  
  
Dirk Gently in a _Mexican Funeral_ t-shirt is not something Todd ever thought he'd see. He holds out the plastic bag, wordlessly, and Dirk takes it from his hands, dumping the coffee-stained clothes in it. "I must say this has been a more scenic tour of Seattle than I was expecting." Dirk says, and Todd kinda goes red, again.  
  
"Do you want something to drink, before you go?" He asks, on impulse and turns to his fridge, rummaging through it for something that isn't vaguely mouldy take out or weird jarred things sent from their mother who'd picked up the art of pickling things. "Or something to eat?"  
  
"No, thank you," Dirk says, as Todd picks up a jar of what appears to be dried apricots in honey, which seems kinda counterproductive to Todd. If you want to eat dried apricots, that's because they taste like dried apricots, but if they're soaked in honey they start tasting like honey. Todd's glad Dirk can't hear his train of thought. "I'd best be on my way."  
  
"Right." Todd says, and closes the fridge, apricots in honey safely back on their shelf. He follows Dirk to the door and he bites his lip. "Um, this was nice."  
  
Dirk raises an eyebrow, behind his sunglasses. "Was it?" He asks, and Todd nods.  
  
"Surreal." He agrees, and opens the door for him. "But nice."  
  
Todd slumps against the door once it's closed behind him. Amanda is never going to believe this. Todd hardly believes it. The idea that Dirk Gently was in his house, wearing his clothes, and Todd spent that time wondering about apricots in honey, it seems so stupid.  
  
There's a knock on the door and Todd jumps in fright. It's Dirk, looking a bit sheepish. Todd can hardly believe it. "You came back." He says.  
  
Dirk smiles, for a second. "I forgot one of my bags."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Yes, sorry." Todd hands the bag to him and they make the short journey back to the entryway. Dirk looks at him with this weird expression on his face. And the next thing Todd knows Dirk's dropped his shopping bags and is kissing Todd, hands on his jaw.  
  
Todd doesn't know where to move, what to do. Dirk pulls away and Todd stares at him.  
  
The door opens and Tina walks in, rummaging through her bag as she does so. She waves a hand at them, in greeting, and walks past, without looking up. "Todd, I'm gonna piss in your toilet, and when I'm done, I'm gonna tell you a story that will make your balls shrink to the size of raisins." Todd hears Tina thumping up the stairs and Dirk shakes with silent laughter.  
  
"I'm going to go." He says, in a low voice, picking up his bags. Todd holds the door open for him as he leaves. He doesn't let it shut until Dirk's disappeared around the corner.  
  
The toilet flushes, upstairs, and Tina thumps into the living room. "Did someone just leave?" She calls to Todd, and he heads into the living room. "Or am I hearing things? I might be hearing things."  
  
"No, someone left." Todd tells her, and collapses into an armchair. He really should be on his way back to the shop, but he's kind of in shock.  
  
"But it's a Sunday." Tina frowns.  
  
"Yeah?" He says, looking up at her. He wonders if she just came over to use the toilet, or if she was hoping to bump into him.  
  
"You're always open on Sunday's." Tina says.  
  
"...yeah?"  
  
"So if Amanda's holding the fort while you're here, who just left?" She's got a point. With Farah still in California, holding press meetings for season three of _Wendimoor_ (a close call, but ultimately inevitable), and Amanda at the shop, it seemed strange for anyone other than himself and Tina to be in the house. She gapes at him. "Oh my god, do you have other friends?"  
  
"No." Todd laughs, and Tina sits down on the couch, propping her feet up on the coffee table. "It was just a guy I spilt coffee on. I gave him a change of clothes."  
  
"That's awfully nice of you." She grouses, switching on the TV. It's kind of weird to him how at home Tina is in his house. Then again, they've been friends since college orientation.  
  
"Yeah, I feel kinda itchy." He admits. "Does it usually feel that way after you do something nice?"  
  
"I have no idea." Tina sniffs, and then laughs. "I've never been nice in my life. Ask Hobbs; he says I'm ruining the script for _Sound of Nothing_ with my stupid prose.”

Todd lets silence descend on them for a few minutes, debating whether he should go back to the shop or let Amanda suffer for a bit longer. And then he sighs, sitting back in his chair, "What were you gonna tell me, now?"  
  
"Oh, right," Tina lights up like a lightbulb, "so, you know Dorian Ozman, right?"  
  
~  
  
"And where'd you get this stunning jacket?" Asks the woman interviewing him. She's interviewed him a few times, obviously a favourite for this outlet, so Dirk can tell she sees through his smile. It doesn't matter. He's just tired. "Fans have been tweeting about it since you were first photographed in it, early yesterday afternoon."  
  
"Oh, well, uh, I got it from a friend." Dirk replies, looking down at the yellow leather jacket Todd from the music store gave him. He hasn't stopped wincing about his every move, that afternoon, from the record he bought just to justify being in the shop, to the fact that he ended up kissing Todd from the music shop. Kissing a random stranger is such a _Bart_ move, embarrassingly enough, not something Dirk would do. "He spilled coffee on me and got me a change of clothes, including the jacket. Said I didn't have to bother giving them back, especially because he thought the jacket was ugly."  
  
The woman raises an eyebrow, smirking, and Dirk can just tell there'll be fan theories everywhere. "Can we expect to hear more about this friend?" The way she says "friend" makes his stomach twist. Really, since coming out, after receiving an award for his performance in the first season of _Project Blackwing_ , every move he's made has been scrutinised even more thoroughly than anyone else. This will only fuel the fire, even if it's slightly true.  
  
"Depends on how much work I get in America, really." Dirk tells her, shrugging, and smiling, anyway.  
  
"There have been rumours going around that some of season three of _Project Blackwing_ will be shot in the Seattle area." He shuffles in his chair when she asks. Scott had been almost frenzied by the time Dirk had showed up on set, and Bart had stuck her tongue out at him, over Scott’s shoulder, already in costume, with her hair and makeup done. “Can you confirm this?"  
  
He smiles, ruefully, to himself, and shakes his head. "My director might murder me if I give anything huge away, so I'm not allowed to confirm or deny anything. Sorry."  
  
"Can you confirm or deny anything about your friend?" The interviewer presses, but Dirk continues to shake his head.  
  
"I really can't." He replies and the interview’s pretty much over. He doesn’t stay to chat with the woman.  
  
~  
  
"Hey, dingus." A pillow hits Todd on the shoulder and falls with a soft thump onto the kitchen tiles, so Todd turns around, halfway, from the stove and his stir fry.  
  
"What?" He asks, irate, and a little impressed that Amanda managed to make that shot from where she is, sitting on the couch.  
  
"I'm gonna react to the fact that you answered to 'dingus' a little later.” She laughs, and sits up. Now he can see her over the top of the couch, and over the breakfast bar. “Right now, my biggest concern is isn't that the jacket mom made you for Christmas, last year?"

“What?” Todd asks, eyebrows furrowing. He’s not actually listening to her, really. He’s kinda busy still freaking out over Dirk Gently having been in his house a mere twenty-four hours ago. He takes his stir fry off the stove and wanders over to her elevated phone, taking it from her hand. "Oh fuck."

  
"It _is_ ?” Amanda cries, throwing another pillow at him. “How the _fuck_ did Dirk Gently get your ugly bright yellow leather jacket?"  
  
Todd reads the tweets over and over again. She obviously saw the initial headline and put in Dirk gently into the Twitter searchbar. Everyone’s talking about it. "I told him to keep it after I spilled coffee all over him." He says, quietly, almost as if he’s not even speaking at all.  
  
" _You're_ the guy he was talking about?" She yells, somehow louder now.  
  
"He was _talking_ about me?" Todd yells back, feeling himself flush.  
  
"Hang on." Amanda takes back her phone and opens up the YouTube app, looking for something. The video she hands him is fifteen minutes long and already has thousands of views, despite it only being up for half an hour.  
  
The Dirk on screen is still wearing the yellow jacket. It’s a different outfit but he’s wearing the jacket and he’s discussing season three of _Project Blackwing._ And then he’s not. _"...uh, I got it from a friend. He spilled coffee on me and got me a change of clothes, including the jacket. Said I didn't have to bother giving them back, especially because he thought the jacket was ugly."_ _  
_  
"Oh my god." Todd moans, a hand to his mouth, and hands Amanda her phone back.  
  
"Jesus fuck, this is going on Twitter.” She mutters to herself, turning back to muted _Seinfeld_ on TV. “Dirk Gently is wearing my brother’s ugly clothes to interviews that will be viewed by the whole world."  
  
"Oh my god." Todd says, again, flopping over the back of the couch and face planting in its cushions.  
  
"Dude, you're so fucked.” She says to him. “He's probably read your article by now."  
  
"Amanda, he's wearing that jacket to interviews! On set! _Off_ set!” He moans and tugs her phone his way, for a second, reading the tweets displayed in front of him. “People are saying it's his ‘signature look’. Oh my god."  
  
"You _so_ fucked up.” Amanda tells him, exiting Twitter and opening the messenger app. “Wait until Farah hears about this."  
  
"No!” This time he tugs her phone with more force. “Don't tell Farah!"  
  
"Why not?" She asks, suspiciously, tugging it back and breaking his hold. Thankfully, she turns it off, which means he’s captured ehr attention.  
  
"Because,” Todd begins, sliding completely over the couch, and sitting up properly to face her, “if you tell Farah that I spilled coffee all over Dirk Gently, gave him one of my band t-shirts and an ugly yellow jacket my mom made-"  
  
"You gave him a _Mexican Funeral_ t-shirt?" Amanda asks, eyes wide.  
  
"-she'll eventually find out that he kissed me." Todd finishes, and somehow, Amanda’s eyes grow wider.  
  
"HE _WHAT_ ?" She shrieks.  
  
~  
  
"You _what_ ?" Bart demands and Dirk groans, flopping down on her hotel bed. A chocolate bar wrapper crunches under his head, but he can't be bothered to check if there's any chocolate bar left in it.  
  
"I kissed the guy.” He groans, ashamedly. “And I haven't told anyone because I feel like such a moron. He was probably straight, anyway."  
  
"What was his name?" She asks, and closes the door, walking over to sit by him.  
  
"Todd." Dirk mumbles, turning his face away from the pillow.  
  
"I have a friend who can track him down, and figure out if he's straight or not." She tells him, nodding to herself and patting his shoulder mock-sympathetically.  
  
"You do?” Dirk asks, excitedly, and then sits up, frowning. “Who?"  
  
Bart, usually unreadable, looks away from him and says, "You don't know him."  
  
"Are you _sure_ about that?" He presses, jabbing her side, lightly. He’s known her all his life, he knows when she’s lying.

"Oh, don't go all sleuth-y on me." Bart groans, slapping his shoulder and getting to her feet, crossing to the mini fridge.

"I'll call mom if you don't tell me." Dirk threatens.  
  
"And if _you_ call mom,” Bart replies, lightly, expression unreadable, “ _I'll_ tell her that you kissed the guy who gave you the yellow jacket."  
  
He narrows his eyes at her, knowing she’s not even the least bit threatened by him. "You wouldn't dare."  
  
"Wouldn’t I?" And she smiles, deviously.

Oh, she definitely would. Dirk knows her well enough to know that. When they were kids they'd pick on each other, ruthlessly. He knows their mother hated it, but to a six year old, picking on his sister who picked on him back seemed perfectly normal, and mommy’s exasperation didn't make any sense. "Fuck, fine,” he relents, and sticks his tongue out at her when she laughs, “I kissed him because I was stressed and annoyed and he was also kinda hot. Your turn."  
  
"It’s Ken." Bart replies, simply, pulling out a tub of ice cream and two spoons, before sitting down on the bed next to Dirk and offering him one.

"Ken the editor, Ken?" Dirk asks, looking closely to catch the vulnerability in her expressions. Only someone with a lot of experience in terms of knowing Bart could see them, and he's known her all his life.

She folds like a lawn chair, frowning and attacking the ice cream with her spoon, after tossing the lid on the floor. "Yes, Ken the editor.” She bumps their shoulders together, hard. “Now, shut your trap about it. We could get in trouble if anyone finds out."  
  
"What, the way you'd get in trouble if anyone found out we were related?" He teases, knowing full well what a nightmarish reality that would be. The only people who know are Scott, Mona, and their mother. If anyone else knew it was liable to get out, and they couldn't risk that. The fact that they even ended up on the same show was surprising enough. That no one’s figured it out yet is even more surprising.

"You'd be in trouble, too, you know.” Bart reminds him, through a mouthful of mint choc-chip ice cream. “The media’d be on us like flies."  
  
"Besides the point.” He waves a dismissive hand, and takes a scoop of ice cream for himself. “I'll never be able to achieve a normal relationship, anymore, much less with some attractive, pop-punk music store owner who has a plethora of interesting jackets in his closet."  
  
"Yeah.” Bart agrees with a faux-glum tone and a fake pout. “Look on the bright side, though, you could try something down low, like what I got with Ken, mutual respect, secrecy, lies, _awesome_ sex-"  
  
Dirk hits her with a pillow. "Please, for the love of god, stop talking."  
  
"I thought you _wanted_ to know all about my escapades with Ken." She laughs.

"Yeah, but not your _sexcapades_ ." He replies. God, that is _definitely_ not something he needs to hear about. Knowing that his twin sister is having sex _at all_ is too much information.

"You're _boring_ .” Bart complains, passing him the ice cream and gesturing with her spoon as she paces the floor by the bed. “What happened to you?"  
  
"I starred in an indie movie with no real plot, and more sex scenes than I was mentally ready for." He deadpans and eats another spoonful of ice cream.

"So what?” She asks. “You’re averse to anything sex-related, now?"  
  
"What would be so wrong with that?” He shoots back.

“Nothing, I respect that. Draw the line where you need to, you know? My first contract was bullshit, you know that.” He does know. He's still paying off the debt from when he hired a lawyer to get her out of it. Then he paid for her plane ticket to go home for a while. She wasn't in a good place, and he wasn't exactly fucking rich at the time, just working as a side character on a shitty sitcom called _This Is Not Miami_ , which was almost certainly a bad ripoff of _It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia_ , but like hell was he going to let them take advantage of his sister like that. “I'm just looking out for you. So is Scott.”

“I know, but it's not even that.” Having a shitty contract is one thing, making a career choice that turns around to bite you in the ass is a whole other thing. “It's that I've only really ever had sex with people I've been with for a long time, and now that pretty much everyone with two eyes and access to _Cereal Bowl Flower Exchange_ has seen pretty much everything I have to offer, I don't feel comfortable being...open about anything."

"Yeah," Bart drawls and grins crookedly, at her phone. "The first thing that comes up when you Google 'Dirk Gently, Cereal Bowl Flower Exchange' is 'Did Dirk Gently Do His Own Ass Work in Cereal Bowl Flower Exchange and Other Questions We Asked In the Movie Theatre by Tina Teventino and Todd Brotzman'."  
  
Dirk blinks, recognising one of the names. "Sorry, by who?"  
  
"Tina Teventino and Todd Brotzman." She repeats, slower and louder.

He pushes her and takes her phone, reading the headline and authors names for himself. "Oh my god."  
  
"What?" Bart groans, and whacks his shoulder with her spoon.

"Todd's the guy I kissed.” Dirk says, and she pushes him, taking back her phone.

"Well,” she drawls, scrolling, “considering Tina spends a whole two sentences talking about her fiancé, I'd say Todd's the one who wrote the detailed paragraph about your ass."  
  
He leans over her shoulder to read the paragraph and when he pulls away they look at each other with matching expressions of dimmed amusement. "So, not straight then?"  
  
"I can't say anything for sure,” Bart says, nodding, “but you look like you have a shot.”

~

Farah’s just trying to get them away from the cast.

“Look, there’s a _Project Blackwing_ panel!” Farah says, mock-excitedly, shoving them across the corridor. “Go, ask questions, leave me and my TV show alone.”

Amanda groans loudly, in protest, as Farah shoves them out of the room, away from the Wendimoor cast and crew. They were only allowed to be in there, in the first place, because Farah brought them along, but they're about to start their actual panel, now, so they need to be elsewhere.

“Why don't we go and get coffee while Farah wrangles the panel?” Amanda suggests, nearly walking backwards into a pillar, and narrowly avoiding it as Todd yanks her out of the way, just in time. She looks unperturbed. “If we bring some back for her maybe she'll let us stay.”

Todd arches an eyebrow, not watching where he's going, “I seriously doubt _coffee_ will soften her-”

This time, when Todd walks directly into Dirk Gently, neither of them are holding hot cups of coffee. So it’s just the simple fact of walking into each other and then overbalancing, wildly. Amanda’s there, this time, to catch Todd’s elbow and steady him, and then she looks over to where Dirk is regaining his balance, mouth open to voice an apology on Todd’s behalf, and instead gapes.  
  
“Gosh, I’ve got to get out of the habit of - Todd!” Dirk Gently says, eyes wide, and Todd stares back, just as surprised. Perhaps he shouldn’t be, given that he knew there was a _Project Blackwing_ panel here, today, but it’s still jarring to walk into Dirk Gently for a second time.  
  
“Dirk,” he replies, almost because he has nothing better to say. “Hi.”  
  
Dirk looks just as startled. “Todd.” He says, again. “Hello. I didn’t know you’d be - usually these are for media only.”  
  
“We have a friend on the inside.” Amanda butts in, and then offers her hand to Dirk. “Amanda Brotzman, great to meet you.”  
  
Dirk casts an amused look in Todd’s direction before shaking Amanda’s hand. “Always a pleasure. Your friend is...?”  
  
“That’s confidential.” Amanda informs him, gravely, folding her newly free hand against her chest in a strictly business-like way. “If we told you anything else we’d have to kill you.”  
  
“Amanda,” Todd hisses, elbowing her in the ribs and colouring pink in the cheeks. “She gets bored easily.”  
  
Amanda sticks her tongue out at Todd, but Dirk inclined his head towards them, “So you’re not doing anything right now?”  
  
Todd shakes his head. “We were forcibly ejected from the last panel we were sitting in on.”  
  
“Do you want to meet the cast of _Project Blackwing?”_ He offers, as if the idea doesn’t make Todd want to actually squeal.  
  
“Is that even a question?” Amanda demands, excitedly, and loops her free arm with Dirk’s, still gripping Todd’s elbow. “Let’s go.”  
  
“Sorry about her,” Todd winces over Amanda’s head.  
  
“It’s no trouble,” Dirk replies, and leads them down the corridor. The green room he leads them into is pretty sparse, with only a few people inside.

Bart Curlish is muttering angrily at the microwave, wearing her signature _I-don't-give-a-shit-about-my-appearance_ outfit of khaki pants and an open button down shirt over a muscle top. Mona Wilder is sitting with her legs crossed on the only couch, eyes closed, beside Francis Cardenas, the youngest person in the group at age fourteen, who's got headphones on and is napping, and the four guys who play Incubus are standing in the far corner, each holding bottles of sweetened iced tea and murmuring between themselves.

They're a strange bunch to look at.

Amanda looks like she's at Disneyland for the first time in her life. “Todd, this is officially the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she whispers to him. “Dirk, you're officially my best friend.”

“Okay,” Dirk agrees, happily, and then clears his throat.

“Guys,” he says, loudly, from the doorway, and a bunch of them look up. Mona and Francis remain unperturbed on the couch. “I've brought some friends for you to meet.”

Bart gives them a once over, and then rolls her eyes and turns back to the microwave, tapping her foot, impatiently. The four Incubus actors wander over, looking intimidating in leather.

Amanda practically throws herself forward. “Hi, Amanda Brotzman, big fan.” She introduces herself, holding her hand out to them. The four men exchange looks, and then the one with the white Mohawk and glasses narrows his eyes.

“Not the Amanda Brotzman who backed _Pararibulitis_ on the drums a few years ago?” He asks, and Amanda’s eyes go wide.

“Wait, you know about that?” She asks, voice trembling a bit. She had been part of that band for the better part of three years, during her last years at high school. The band got picked up by a label, but after their first tour, they dumped Amanda, and she ran back to Seattle with a vow to never play again.

“Man, _Pararibulitis_ ain't shit without you.” Says the one with the tattooed circle around his eye.

“Yeah, you're the best drummer we’ve ever seen.” Agrees the one in the beanie.

Amanda looks like she's about to cry. Dirk gives Todd a _what should I do?_ look, and Todd just shrugs, only really able to watch on.

The smallest one, in the red and black spotted shirt, sets a hand on Amanda’s shoulder, “ _We’re_ big fans of _yours_ ,” he informs her, and they pull her over to their corner to continue talking with her, animatedly.

Todd turns to Dirk, who looks bewildered. “I'm assuming they're not usually like that,” he says, in lieu of anything else to say.

Dirk shrugs, “They've never taken to anyone like that before. Your sister must really be something.”

“Trust me, she is.” Todd says, and sighs. Dirk shuffles in place, staring at his feet, and Todd prays he's not going to bring up the fact that they kissed the last time they saw each other.

“I want to apologise,” Dirk says, lowly, and Todd tries to keep his groan inward. “It was so weird of me to kiss you right after meeting you, and you must have been weirded out-”

“You don't have to apologise,” he interrupts, feeling awkward and a bit embarrassed. “It was fine.”

“Oh.” Is all Dirk says to that. And then he smiles a bit. “Okay. Cool. Because I wasn't actually sorry.”

Todd wills away the heat in his cheeks. “Oh. Good.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Cool, so would you want to go out, tonight?”

“Out?” He quirks an eyebrow at him, and Todd wills himself to blush less, finding he is unfortunately powerless to stop it.

“Yeah, like a-” Todd clears his throat. “Like a _date_.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah, yes, I would love to.” Dirk says, smiling widely, and Todd can let himself relax now. He's going to go on a date with Dirk Gently, tonight, and it's going to be great, because-

“Yeah, that sounds - oh, shit,” Dirk winces, “I have another press conference tonight.”

This just gets better and better, it's like the universe is teasing Todd. “When does it finish?” He asks, tiredly, wondering how easy it'll be to sneak out of the house without Amanda noticing.

“Nine.” Dirk informs him.

“Okay,” Todd exhales, “how about after your press conference, we grab a bite and I walk you to your hotel?”

“That sounds…” He bites his lip, readying himself for Dirk to tell him the idea is horrible. He just really likes him, and if he's gone be let down by this man, he'd like to be let down easy. “Pretty good actually.”

“Okay.” Todd pretends he's not sighing in relief. “That's what we’ll do.”

“Hey, Dirk, have a look at this,” Bart butts in to the conversation, handing Dirk a folded magazine. The page she shows him is a collage of photos from an airport, where Dirk and Bart, both in hoodies and sunglasses, are holding hands and warding away paparazzi. The captions are about some kind of blossoming love affair.

Dirk snorts. “Have you sent pictures to…” he trails off, side eyeing Todd, before turning back, “To Hanna?”

Bart shakes her head. “Was about to.” She says in her gravelly voice. “This is worse than when they thought you were dating Mona.”

~

The pictures they put up for each of them are kind of weird, Dirk thinks. They don't exactly give the right impression of the show.

When if first came out, all the promo pictures were of the cast in their different coloured jumpsuits, looking as boring as possible. Francis was eleven then, and on Bart’s shoulders for the picture.

(He's “grown up” since then, he tells them, and he hates that they treat him as the cast baby. He insists they refer to him as Cardenas, and refers to them by their last names, too.)

The second season was a little more experimental. Scott admitted to them that he hadn't been sure they'd be renewed, so when they were, it was a mad rush to get the scripts churned out and the episodes shot. That promo shoot was weird, all of them in the strangest costumes the season had to offer. Martin, Vogel, Gripps, and Cross were still in their jumpsuits, but modified. Mona was wearing a white night dress with bright green contacts in. Francis was in a hospital gown with a crown on his head. Bart was in a pink tutu and splattered with blood, and Dirk had been wearing a weird zip-up psychedelic shirt under corduroy pants and a purple jacket.

That was around the time Dirk did _Cereal Bowl Flower Exchange_ and the show blew up in popularity. They won best TV show, and were renewed for a third season. Now that the shooting for season three is nearly done, they have their promo photos for it, and Dirk is a little weirded out at seeing them right after the panel is done.

Incubus in leather, Moloch in a denim jacket and jeans, Lamia in a yellow ball gown, Bart in her underwear, drenched in blood, and Dirk in a blue shirt and red leather jacket. Seriously, from context clues, who could guess what the show was about?

It's really not for him to worry about, though. That's Marketing’s problem, and he really doesn't have a say in what they get him to wear. (Thankfully enough they like the yellow jacket.)

Martin and co. say their goodbyes very quickly afterwards, citing that they're needed elsewhere, though Dirk has no idea where that may be, and rush off towards their van. It's good that they got cast as a group. They've become very attached to each other.

Todd’s waiting outside in a denim jacket with patches all over it, when Dirk exits the building. “Hey,” he says, in greeting.

“Hey,” Dirk says, back, and smiles.

Todd takes him to a hole-in-the-wall pizza place, and they're there for a full hour, getting to know each other between slices of some of the best pizza Dirk’s ever had.

After that, Todd drives him to the hotel, and walks him up to his room. “This was really nice,” Todd says.

“Surreal, but nice?” Dirk suggests, and Todd gives him a playful shove.

“You know what I mean.” He says, smiling at the floor. It was more than nice, really. It's the best date Dirk’s been on since before Scott picked him out of _This Is Not Miami_. “I need you to come to Seattle more often so I can take you on another, better date.”

“I don't know how there can possibly be a date better than this.” Dirk says to him, honestly, and Todd gives him a kind of bashful smile, like he can't believe Dirk would say that, but in a good way. They're standing very close, Dirk suddenly realises. _Very_ close. The kind of close one usually takes advantage of in times like these.

Dirk knows how to take a hint.

Apparently, though, Todd does as well, and is a little more impulsive than Dirk, which is why before Dirk can move any closer, Todd’s already kissing him.

Dirk has not been kissed in a long time. In fact, he doesn't think he's been kissed since shooting _Cereal Bowl Flower Exchange_ , and if we’re not counting that, then at least not since during _This Is Not Miami._ Needless to say that Dirk is both a. Out of practice, and b. Incredibly excited about this turn of events. He kisses back with fervour, grabbing Todd by the front of his flannel button down and dragging him closer.

He’s probably too eager, but he doesn’t care, because Todd seems to like it. Todd has his fingers in the hair at the back of Dirk’s hair and he’s kissing almost expertly. Maybe Dirk’s just out of practice, or maybe it’s been way too long to cast any kind of judgement. He doesn’t care. _He doesn’t care._

Todd breaks away with a sharp inhale. His cheeks are pink and his pupils are blown and his lips are red, and Dirk doesn’t want him to leave, and Dirk doesn’t want to be leaving in the morning, and Dirk hates that moments ever have to end.

“Do you want to come inside?” He asks, breathlessly, and Todd nods.

“Please.” He responds, and Dirk has to grin at him, he doesn’t have a choice. He pulls his key card out of his pocket and swipes it across the lock, hastily. It’s been ages since he’s felt like this about someone, he’s just got to take what he can get from it while he can.

Except that when they step inside, Scott is also there, and looks surprised to see Dirk, and then even more surprised to see Todd, holding Dirk’s hand, trailing behind him.

Dirk frowns, surprised and a little put out. “Did I get the wrong room?” He asks this even after seeing his own suitcase open on the bed.

“That’s not how key cards work, Dirk,” Todd murmurs. “If it wasn’t your room, the door wouldn't have opened.”

Dirk ignores him, “What are you doing here, Scott? It’s nearly midnight.”

Scott looks between them again, looking bewildered. “None of the others had heard from you since you left tonight’s press conference. The cleaning lady hadn’t seen you.”

“I’m not a child, Scott.” Dirk finds himself snapping. “You don’t have to mother me.”

“Either way, we’re leaving tomorrow morning, you shouldn’t have guests this late-“

“Scott, what the hell-“

“It’s okay, Dirk.” Todd grumbles, releasing Dirk’s hand. “He’s right, it’s getting late. I might get a parking ticket or something.”

“Todd, you don’t have to leave right now,” Dirk protests, turning around to face him.

“Like I said, it’s okay.” Todd says, smiling. “Get some rest. Are you back to England tomorrow? You don’t want to fly tired.”

“Todd-“

“I’ll keep in contact.” He assures him, squeezing his hand quickly, before fleeing out the heavy hotel room door, tossing over his shoulder a casual, “See you later.”

Scott doesn’t even look a little sorry when Dirk turns, angrily, back to him. He opens his mouth to say something, but Dirk just cuts him off, saying, “Out.”

Scott leaves, and Dirk sighs, sitting down on his bed, heavily. There goes his evening plans.

~

The next morning, there are pictures on Instagram and Twitter of Dirk and Todd from the back at the pizza place and outside Dirk’s hotel, holding hands and sitting close together. The articles attached to the pictures speculate about Todd’s identity and once again bring up the popular argument about Dirk’s sexuality.

Todd exits the apps, but not before messaging Dirk on Twitter about keeping in contact.

He doesn’t tell Amanda about it. She’s passed out on the sofa, anyway, when he wakes up and gets breakfast.

~

Shooting for _Sound of Nothing_ finishes up in Montana. It's a less revealing project than _Cereal Bowl Flower Exchange_ and Tina Teventino is a decidedly incredible writer. He doesn't know too much about her, but every time they've interacted, she's acted coy and off-the-rails optimistic. She wrote him a good character, Dirk’s pretty happy with his work once the camera’s stopped rolling.

“So,” Tina begins, conversationally, as Dirk walks towards his trailer, “what’s next for you?”

He frowns, sifting glitter from his hair. “A shower, hopefully. I don't think I'll ever get all of this out of my hair.”

“No,” she laughs, “I mean work wise. You got another project to hop onto?”

Dirk considers. “I have a few months before _Project Blackwing’s_ fourth season starts filming, but after that I'm completely free. I'm sure my agent will find me something.”

Working on _Sound of Nothing_ kind of came out of nowhere. When his producer phoned him up, pretty much immediately after filming season three of _Project Blackwing_ wrapped, Dirk was dubious, but then his agent said he'd get to be working with Sherlock Hobbs.

Dirk’s loved his filmography for years - from early stuff like _Bergsberg_ to his last project _The Infant Male Pollock Francis_ . His agent knows this very well, and so the fact that she scored him an audition for _Sound of Nothing_ , which then became the lead role, in a movie Sherlock Hobbs was directing? Dirk could kiss her, he truly could.

In person, Sherlock Hobbs is kind of absent minded and lovely and brilliant, and Dirk loves every second working with him. It'll be shame not to see him again until the premiere, but Dirk can deal with that. He deals with separation better, nowadays.

“ _Project Blackwing’s_ probably only got another season left in it, right?” Tina asks, as they near his trailer. “After this season, I have no idea where the story could go.”

“Yes,” Dirk sighs. It's something Scott’s been stressing about for a while. It looks as though season four may be _Project Blackwing’s_ last, which would inevitably leave Dirk out of the job. Whatever. It's not like he can't get independent work. “We’re probably not getting another out after this one.”

“Shame.” Tina sighs. “Hey, you know Todd Brotzman, right?”

Dirk freezes, mid-step. It's been months since he saw Todd in person. They finished filming in London, and then he went to Kansas, then Vermont, and now Montana, and he hasn't seen Todd since he was filming in Seattle. However, Todd found him on Twitter, and they exchanged numbers, and they've been texting ever since. He guesses he knows Todd, but the same could be said for him knowing Guillermo Del Toro, considering how often he gets into Twitter threads with him.

“I suppose?” He replies, cautiously. At this point, he trusts Tina, but he doesn't want to reveal too much.

“Right.” She smiles. “I'm friends with him. So is my fiancé. It's kind of unavoidable seeing him when I'm at home.” Tina sighs, looking both fond and annoyed. “ _Any_ way, he doesn't shut up about you. Would you consider coming to Seattle, at some point in the near future? I think he might spontaneously combust if you don't.”

Dirk frowns a bit. There's glitter on her fingers. “He talks about me?” He tries not to sound absolutely head over heels, but if the way Tina shoots him a smirk is anything to go by, he completely fails.

“All the time. All I hear from him nowadays is _Dirk says this_ , _Dirk says that_. He's smitten for you.” She pauses, lost in thought. She's carrying a clipboard that has today's shooting schedule on it, and it has both doodles in the margins and ticks beside each of the shots needed. “So, you know, this has been refreshing. You don't ever talk about him.”

“Well, I can't.” Dirk says, quietly. “If anyone knew about - I want him to have his privacy.”

“Yeah, no, I get it. Fame is hard on relationships. Of course, he's says you're _just keeping it casual_.” She puts air quotes around the words, shoving the clipboard between her elbow and her ribs.

He tries not to deflate. “He said that?”

“He just trying not to impress anything on you that you don't want.” Tina rushes to assure him, walking up the steps to his trailer, in front of him. “You guys haven't made anything official, yet, and he doesn't want to out you on this or anything.”

“That's very considerate of him.” Dirk comments, slowly. She nods, approvingly.

“Yeah, well, my man Toddy-B is a considerate guy.” Tina hip checks his trailer door open, and gestures for him to enter in a mocking fashion. “Anyway, come to Seattle at some point. I think we’d all love that.”

~

What really came out of the visit to the _Project Blackwing_ panel, months ago, is that Amanda now has a part time, endlessly loving and encouraging entourage of some of the scariest dude Todd has ever met. Martin and co. (AKA Incubus from _Project Blackwing_ ) are seen more at Todd’s house than they are at panels, and Todd can only blame Amanda.

Of course, they're always lovely to her, but if Todd bumps into them in the kitchen, in the bathroom, in the stairwell, they're only ever barely civil with him. He doesn't know what he's done, or what Amanda’s told them, but he can't assume they've taken it lightly, and so tries to avoid them as best he can.

Amanda laughs when he brings this up at dinner, once. “Are you kidding? They're just messing with you.”

“What about the guy with the tattoo around his eye?” Todd asks through a mouthful of pork dumpling. “He's always kinda aggressive towards me.”

“Cross wouldn't hurt a fly.” She huffs. “You're blowing this _way_ out of proportion.”

And then Amanda brings Martin to Farah’s birthday dinner. Todd thinks it's going to go badly, just based on the broody way he looks at Todd in the rear view mirror as he drives them to Farah’s house, but then he and Farah get along swimmingly, and he makes polite conversation with Tina about her new movie. They disappear into the bathroom in the interval between dinner and dessert.

Farah leans across the table to whisper to Todd while Tina prepares dessert in the kitchen. “You didn't tell me your sister was dating someone affiliated with the enemy.”

Todd snorts, unconvincingly. “They're not dating.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Todd Brotzman, try and tell me, truthfully, that they aren't necking in my guest bathroom, right now. Try it.” Todd opens his mouth to retort, but Farah cuts him off, once more, “If Amanda doesn't come back out looking like the heroine on the cover of a romance novel I'll owe you ten bucks.”

Amanda doesn't come back looking like the heroine on the cove of a romance novel, but Martin sure does. Todd’s not sure who wins. He gives Farah five bucks and moves on with his life.

Up until right now. He's trying to write a song - yes, unbelievable as it is, Todd Brotzman is inspired to write music, right now! - and Amanda is playing her music so damn loud in her bedroom that Todd can't hear himself think. He marches up the stairs, ready to cuss her out.

Todd knocks, but the music is playing really loud, so he opens the door, and is greeted by the sight of Amanda, wearing nothing but her underwear, pressed up against the wall by a shirtless Martin, with her legs looped around his hips. There's some very disgusting tongue going on. Todd is frozen on the spot, wondering how to leave this situation. He doesn't get the time when Amanda looks over Martin's shoulder and catches sight of Todd in the doorway.

Her eyes go wide and she frantically pushes Martin away, effectively flinging herself away from him with a low shriek.  
  
Todd slams the door as he retreats. He never wanted to see that much of his little sister and her sex life, and he never wants to, again. He finds himself slumped over the breakfast bar, face in his hands, wondering how his life had ever become so complicated.  
  
Amanda pads down the stairs, and Todd looks around at her. She's still not wearing pants, but at least now she's wearing one of her thin sweaters with a neck that's been so stretched out it slumps over one shoulder. She grins sheepishly at him as she takes the seat next to him. "So." She says, and clicks her uneven nails against the top of the counter.  
  
Todd hasn't felt this awkward in a while. "So." He agrees, not knowing what to say.  
  
"I'm sorry you had to see that." Amanda blurts out, staring at her hands.  
  
"No, it was my fault. I was the one who walked into your room, unannounced." Todd replies, quickly. He pushes some hair out of his eyes; he really needs to get it cut, again. "I mean, you'd even put a sock on the door handle."  
  
She frowns at him, wrinkling her nose. "Did you just think I was that gross?"  
  
"To be leaving your laundry in odd places? Honestly? Yes." She thumps her head into the counter. Todd winces. "You know I'm bad at social cues."  
  
"Oh, really, I had no idea." Amanda says, sarcastically, head still on the breakfast bar.  
  
"Don't." He sighs.  
  
"Sorry."  
  
Talking with Amanda about this sort of thing has always been hard, but he's never had to talk to her about her being in a relationship with a TV star. "So..." Todd says again, trying to think of the best way to broach the topic. "You and Martin, huh? This a new thing?"  
  
"Well, I mean, fairly." Amanda begins playing with an old rubber band that Todd left out after finishing the chips, last night. "We've kissed a few times. And there was one time in Farah's bathroom, on the weekend, at her birthday dinner? But other than that, we've never gone as far as we were about to."  
  
"Right. Well." Todd clears his throat, interlinking his fingers, so he has something to look at. "You know what you're doing, so I won't even try to give you the whole 'be safe' talk."  
  
"Please god, don't." Amanda laughs. "I don't need a sex talk from a twenty nine year-old virgin."  
  
"I'm not a virgin." He exclaims, against his better judgement, face going red.  
  
"Ew, I didn't need to know that." She bats his arm, laughing.  
  
"You're the one who brought up virginity!" He says and she laughs. She looks happy. Todd can at least be glad Martin's keeping her happy - making her happy, if Todd's telling the truth. "He's really different, isn't he?"  
  
"From everyone else I've ever dated? Yeah. I mean, I really like him." She bites her lip, and Todd's never seen Amanda look so unashamedly girlish, like she's just been asked to the prom. "And, I mean, it's _more_ than that. They've been renewed for a fourth season, but Martin says after that the writers don't know where to go. Season four might be the last, and the boys are rooting for a spinoff series."  
  
"Really?" It’s not that surprising, knowing them, and knowing Amanda's ride-or-die personality, she's likely to support them on this front. "That's big."  
  
"It is." She agrees and runs her teeth along her bottom lip. "And I want to help them."  
  
_There it is._ "Yeah?"  
  
"Yeah. Farah's been helping me in honing in my writing, she says I have a lot of potential, and I know that I have talent." That doesn't surprise Todd. Last summer, when season two of _Wendimoor_ was in the middle of writing, Farah had a nervous breakdown and couldn't finish her scripts, so Amanda came over and helped her through them. "Hell, some of the scripts I helped Farah write actually made it into the final cut for _Wendimoor_ . I wrote the scene where the princes met in the clearing to attempt a truce."  
  
"Really?" That was something Todd didn't know. He laughs a bit, putting a hand to his forehead. "No wonder it was so charged with sexual tension."  
  
"That was all the boys." Amanda says, waving a dismissive hand.  
  
"Are you kidding me?" He pushes her shoulder, and Amanda shoves him back. "You literally had Panto say the most romantic line in the series."  
  
"It doesn't matter. What matters is that the boys are supporting me in this. They think I have a real chance, if I pitch it right." The way she's says it makes it seem possible. Todd imagines how infuriated Farah would be if Scott Riggins profited from something Amanda worked to create. And he imagines Amanda at one of those big award shows, accepting an award for her work on a spinoff series of her own design. He thinks it would be worth it, just to see her smile. "And who knows? If they make a spinoff for Project Incubus, they might make one for Marzanna, and for Moloch, and for Lamia, and maybe even Icarus."  
  
"Maybe." Todd agrees, and it's insane how clearly he could picture them.  
  
"Martin is...a bonus, I guess." Amanda says, reaching the end of her train of thought. "If I'm right about this, he'll have been my primary reason for getting the chance."  
  
"I'm proud of you." Todd says and wraps and arm around her shoulders, kissing her temple.  
  
She laughs and shoves him away; they've never been big on physical affection. "Thanks, Todd."  
  
There's a creak from the stairs. "Uh, Manda? You coming back?" She turns to look at Martin, awkwardly hovering on the stairs. His shoulders tense when he meets Todd's eyes. Todd nods, stiffly, at him.  
  
"Yeah, I'll be right there." Martin nods to her and thumps back up the stairs. Amanda stands up and half shrugs at Todd, eyebrows raising. "Well, I guess I'm gonna go and have sex with my kind-of-boyfriend. I'll see you later."  
  
"Okay." Todd says, shooting her a half-hearted thumbs up. "Stay safe."  
  
Amanda laughs again, and shoots him a thumbs up of her own. "Ew, Todd."

~

 **Todd:** ok, i know it's stupid, but i wrote you a song

 **Dirk:** A song? Really? For me?

 **Todd:** don't freak out

 **Dirk:** I'm not freaking out. You just said, when I met you, that your were both an aspiring and an ex musician, and now I guess you're a musician again

 **Todd:** not technically?

 **Dirk:** But you wrote me a song

 **Todd:** but i wrote you a song.

 **Dirk:** What's it about?

 **Todd:** it's not really about a lot, right now. do you want to call me and i’ll play what i have to you?

 **Dirk:** Please

~  
  
Amanda’s out of town. She and Martin have gone to pitch _Project Incubus_ as a spinoff series, complete with sample scripts. Todd and their parents are ridiculously proud of her.

So why someone is ringing his doorbell at seven thirty on a Monday morning, Todd has no idea, and really doesn't like it.

Todd opens the door, when he's too tired to realise that he's only wearing boxer shorts and a homemade t-shirt that says "Eat Ass, Suck A Dick, and Sell Drugs" on it, only to find a distraught and bedraggled looking Dirk Gently standing on his doorstep.

All sleep flees him the minute he takes this all in.  
  
Dirk shuffles, awkwardly, on the doorstep, and sniffs, a bit. "Can I come in?"  
  
Todd moves away from the door. "Yeah, of course." He replies.  
  
Dirk speed walks past him, into the dining room. Todd follows as close as possible because it's not weird enough that he regularly wears the jacket Todd gave him, in public, but he's suddenly turned up in Todd's house, looking like someone has just killed his mother and made Dirk look like the guilty party.  
  
Todd's just glad Amanda isn't here.  
  
"What's wrong?" He asks. Because that's what a friend would do, not some starstruck stranger that had kissed him a couple of times and really liked it, and also maybe privately considers himself more than a friend to Dirk.

Dirk laughs, without humour, letting his backpack fall off his shoulder with a loud thump. "So you haven't heard."  
  
"I literally just got up to answer the door." Todd deadpans, gesturing to his outfit. There's a quirk of a smile when Dirk reads his shirt, but it flickers away, just as quickly.  
  
"It's probably the first thing you'll see when you open up any app." He mutters, pulling out his phone and tapping, absently, on the screen. His expression hardens. "Yep, there it is, take a peek."  
  
He hands it over to Todd and Todd registers the Twitter app before zeroing in on the headline about _Dirk Gently's Unfortunate Teenage Nudes_ . Underneath is a very heavily cropped photo of a much younger Dirk not wearing very much at all. "Oh my god." Todd says.  
  
Dirk laughs, wetly, and drops onto the couch, looking resigned. "That happened last night."  
  
"Jesus Christ, are you okay?" Todd asks, sitting down beside him, and handing him back his phone.  
  
"Oh, yeah, no, I'm fine." Dirk says, and his sarcastic voice is only a little half hearted. He looks incredibly upset. Todd can understand why. "I'm just super angry and I was in Washington, and I really didn't want to look anyone in the eyes after that blew up, so I drove up here and I was hoping you'd let me stay for a few days, because I don't know where else to turn." His eyes fill with tears and Todd doesn't really know what to do, coming from a family full of people afraid of touching each other.  
  
"It's okay." He finds himself saying, and winces as soon as it leaves his mouth.  
  
"No, it's not. This is never going to go away." Dirk stands up, and begins to pace, looking more and more panicked as seconds go by. "And now that they've found all this, they're going to keep digging, and once they dig long enough they're going to find out about my sister, and everything she's been doing, and once that's all over, they're going to find out who I really am, and I can't take that kind of blow."  
  
"Wait, calm down." He says, going to Dirk and halting his pacing. "Your sister?"  
  
"Bart." He says, and looks more upset than before. "Well, Vanda to me, but you know her as Bart Curlish."  
  
That hits Todd like a semi truck. "Bart's your sister?"  
  
More wet laughing. "Since birth, yeah."  
  
"So Bart Curlish isn't her real name?" Stupid questions, really, but Todd's just stuck on the merry-go-round that is Bart is Dirk's sister. That brash, loud, redhead is the sister of this brash, loud, very attractive and very upset redhead, sitting on Todd's couch, right now. He should have out the pieces together sooner, but considering no one else has, it's not all that distinct. But what are the chances they'd be cast as ensemble leads in the same, award winning show?  
  
"Nope. Same as Dirk Gently isn't my real name. Not the name on my birth certificate, anyway." Dirk replies, voice back at its usual, talkative cadence, so that's at least a little comforting. "Svlad Cjelli, at your service, please, for the love of god, never repeat what I just told you."  
  
"So Bart Curlish is actually Vanda Cjelli." Todd says, instead of anything useful.  
  
"Yep." Dirk huffs. "Our mother, Hanna, lives in Romania. Bart's my twin, and she's been having a covert affair with one of the head editors of our show, and if anyone finds out either or both of them could be fired."  
  
"Oh god." Dirk's family is just full of scandals, apparently.  
  
"I'm less worried about what this whole nude leak situation will do to my reputation and more worried about how it will affect my sister." Dirk admits, slumping back into the couch.  
  
Todd pats his arm sympathetically (and a fair bit awkwardly), before frowning. "Why are you telling me this?"  
  
"Because I trust you." Dirk says, plain and simple. "Probably against my better judgement, but I trust you. Can I stay here?"  
  
"Won't your showrunner or whatever be wondering where you are?" Todd asks him, holding back the yes on the tip of his tongue.  
  
"Oh, I'm sure Scott will know why I went AWOL once he finds out what's happened. He probably already knows. Half the world already knows." He sighs, looking down at his lap. "I just need some time to recover."  
  
"Yeah." Todd gets up, and puts Dirk's backpack on an empty armchair. "You can stay here as long as you like."  
  
Dirk looks really grateful, scuffing his feet on the creaky floorboards, "Thank you."  
  
"My sister's actually out of town, right now, so you can bunk in her room." Todd tells him, walking into the kitchen to make some coffee. No doubt Dirk will use all of his milk and sugar to make his taste "nice" once Todd hands him a mug, but it's a risk Todd's willing to take.  
  
"No, no, that's fine, I'll sleep on the couch." Dirk replies, following Todd to the kitchen and seating himself at the breakfast bar. He really does look like a mess, eyes rimmed the same red his nose is, hair dishevelled, crumbs on his shirt.  
  
"She seriously wouldn't give a single shit." He informs his grotty slightly-famous, slightly-disgraced houseguest who is also slightly his friend and slightly more than that.

"I don't know." Dirk shrugs, thumbing an old phone book that Todd never got around to throwing out. "I feel like I'd seriously be pushing the whole 'best friend' thing if I slept in her bed, during my recovery period because my nudes got leaked."Todd focuses on getting the coffee beans into the machine and getting out mugs, but then when the machine is running, he realises he has too many thoughts and keeping them all in his head will probably drive him insane. He turns around, inhaling deeply.

“You don't have to answer this, but why are there nudes to leak?” Dirk looks up slowly, looking thoughtful and tired.

“It's a long story.” He says. Slowly.

Todd winces, “Sorry, no, I shouldn't have asked-”

“No, it’s fine.” Dirk cuts him off, raising a hand. He smiles, very slightly, and then it flickers away again. “It's - look, not many people know this, but when Bart first got into acting, her contract was complete bollocks. Really invasive and terrible and - well, she's my _sister_ . I _had_ to do _something_ . It took a lot of money to get her out of it, but I did it anyway, and one of the things I did to get the money we needed was sell pictures of myself…it was a stupid move, but I don't regret it because now she's okay, and she doesn't have to live out her acting career under that contract.” Todd watches him swallow, thickly, blinking away the shine of his eyes. He waves a hand. “ _This_ whole situation is a small price to pay in comparison to what Bart would've had to go through.”

The coffee machine beeps behind him, but Todd doesn't turn away. He knows he's staring. He's just stupidly besotted for this sad man sitting in front of him, this man who's done so much good in his life, this man who's dealing with a tidal wave of shit. “Wow.” He says for lack of anything better to say, and then adds, “You're a better brother than I’ve ever been.”

Dirk frowns at the surface of the breakfast bar, cheeks going pink. “You haven't been in the same situations as Bart and I, you can't compare yourself.”

Todd finishes making the coffees in silence, and whine he passes Dirk his mug, clears his throat. "What will get your mind off of all of this?" He asks, wanting to do anything to get that haunted look off Dirk’s face.

"There's not a lot I _can_ do, right now.” Dirk admits. “I can't go out; I'm currently trending on Twitter."

"Alright. Well, what can we do in the house that you'd enjoy?” Dirk shrugs. Todd turns a slow circle trying desperately to find something to distract Dirk with. His eyes land on the TV. “Want a good show to binge? I recommend _Wendimoor_."

Dirk kind of lights up. "I love _Wendimoor_.” He says to Todd, smiling, fully, for the first time today. “I'm a big fan. Francis Pollock is a friend of mine."

"No fucking way.” Todd responds, playing along. “Farah Black is my best friend's fiancé."

"Seriously?” Dirk asks, eyes widening. “Could I meet her? Her writing is a work of genius."

He laughs, "I'll see what I can do."

"I have a lot of lines to run; we just got episode seventeen's script and it looks like a doozy.” Dirk turns, eyes narrowing fractionally. “You won't leak the spoilers if I get you to run lines with me, will you?"

"Cross my heart, hope to die."

"Great."

Todd gestures for Dirk to follow him upstairs. "I have good roof access, you might feel better if we go up there.” Dirk nods at him, so Todd nods back, from the second floor landing. “Also, hold on while I get real people clothes on."

Dirk actually smiles, "The t-shirt is very classy."

~

Before Dirk went off the grid, he texted Scott to let him know he was going, and then turned his phone off. He hasn't turned it back on since. It's been almost eighteen hours. Scott probably thinks he's dead, by now. He's probably called Bart and Hanna by now.

Dirk actually doesn't care. Right now, he's curled up on Todd’s sofa, watching the thirteenth episode of season one of  _ Wendimoor _ , eating popcorn and drinking lemonade. They practiced Dirk’s lines for  _ Project Blackwing  _ for a few hours, on the roof, and then Todd went to get them lunch and told Dirk to shower. Over lunch, Todd explained where Amanda was, and then, after some persuasion, pulled out his guitar, and played a more polished version of the sing he wrote for Dirk.

It's been a surprisingly nice day, and Dirk suspects he has Todd to thank for that. The only damper is that at some point, he's going to have to turn his phone back on.

Todd’s showering, at the moment, begging out of watching this particular episode, as he's “seen it way too many times”. Dirk doesn't want to turn on his phone, but he also doesn't want Todd to be there when he does. Now’s the best time, he supposes.

As soon as he puts in his passcode, his screen is flooded with notifications from Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, Messenger. There's messages from Scott, begging him to come back, messages from Bart and Hanna, asking if he's okay, and a myriad of missed calls from all three of them.

On Twitter and Instagram Mona and Francis are defending him, but it doesn't stop the onslaught of judgemental headlines and people @ing him. He texts all his friends and his mother that he’s alright, just hiding out at a friend's place. And then Bart calls. He has to pick up.

“Oh, thank fuck.” She shouts, when he picks up. “I'd convinced Ken you were dead.”

“Hi, Dirk. Glad you're not dead.” Says Ken, closer to the phone. “Where are you? We’ve both had calls from Scott about your whereabouts. I think he's about to call the police.”

“I texted him fifteen minutes ago, calling off the search party,” Dirk sighs. “Sorry I made you think I was dead.”

“Don't do that again.” Bart growls, nearer now. “Last time we had a scandal we stuck together, I thought it was gonna be a tradition.”

“Sorry.” He says, and he means it.

“Okay, so, where are you?” Ken asks, sounding calmer than Bart. He's obviously being her rock, at the moment, when God knows she's usually so good at being steady. It's just when it comes to him and Hanna, people she cares for deeply, that Bart goes off the deep end.

“Seattle.” Dirk says, quietly, reaching out for the TV remote so he can pause  _ Wendimoor.  _ He's seen this particular episode a few times now, he can stand to miss it, but he doesn't particularly want to. “At a friend's.”

“How are you?” Bart demands. “Is your friend taking care of you?”

“I'm doing fine. Way less upset about all of this than I was this morning. And yes, he's taking care of me.” He pauses. “How are you?”

“I'm fine,” she snorts and Ken takes over from there, “Bart’s calmed down since she saw. She was fucking outraged, like a dragon.”

“Thanks, that's very flattering.” Says Bart’s voice, further away. “And anyway, Ken says he has lawyer friends. I'm gonna find who leaked these and make them pay.”

He rolls his eyes, “Whatever you say, Bart.”

“Mom says you should visit soon.” Bart grumbles.

“Mom’s  _ always _ saying that.” Dirk retorts, childishly.

“She means it this time.” She insists, and Dirk suspects Ken must have left the room, since he hasn't interjected in a bit and Bart is loathe to discuss their mother around other people, even someone she trusts as much as Ken. “She's saying we should both just ghost Scott and go to Romania for a few months.”

Dirk sighs. He'd like to do that, he hasn't been home in too long. He misses home. He misses being just them; Bart and their mother at home, Christmas’, birthdays, Sunday mornings that were more coffee and grunting than family time. But he can't. After his recovery is over he needs to be back to shooting, “Tell her I'd love to, but there's stuff to be done.”

“Alright.” Her tone implies it's  _ not _ alright. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, I think I am.” He runs a hand across his face. “I just need a few days to lie low. Maybe in a week the media will leave me alone.”

“Maybe they will.” Bart agrees. “Hey, look, I'll handle Scott. You don't have to talk to him, right now. I know you guys are being really terse with each other.”

“Thanks, Bart.”

“Okay. I'll call you again, tomorrow.”

“Okay. Love you.”

“Yeah, yeah, love you too.”

As soon as he hangs up, Todd rounds the corner and walks in, hair damp, expression thoughtful. “Was that Bart?” He asks, quietly.

“Yeah,” Dirk responds, tiredly, turning  _ Wendimoor  _ back on.

“How's she?” Todd seats himself, heavily, on the couch beside Dirk.

Dirk nods, eyes on the screen. “She's good.”

Todd takes his hand, gently, and Dirk tries not to freeze in place. “That's good.” Todd says, squeezes Dirk’s hand, and then leans back on the couch, releasing it.

If this is what it's like to feel happy, Dirk should be in Seattle more often.

~

The third day Dirk’s there, sleeping on the couch, despite Amanda’s written approval for him to sleep in her bed, Todd tosses a hoodie and some sunglasses at him.

“Come on, we’re going out.” He says, before striding into the kitchen to get snacks.

Dirk splutters at him from the living room, and then stumbles into the kitchen holding the hoodie and sunglasses at arms length. “I can't go out!” He says, sounding practically scandalised.

He stuffs some chips in his mouth before stuffing the chip packet into his backpack. “You can't stay cooped up in here forever, either - you’ll get cabin fever.” He is kinda concerned about Dirk’s general disdain for the outside at the moment, while being aware of his reasoning. It's really good reasoning too, dammit. “I was thinking we could see a movie or something.”

“But I'll get recognised!”

“That's what the hoodie and sunglasses are for,” Todd informs him, matter-of-factly. He sees the look on Dirk’s face and softens. “Hey, you know I wouldn't deliberately put you in a situation you didn't like, right? If you don't want to do this I won't make you. I just think it'd be good for you.”

Dirk shuffles on the spot, looking at the ground. “I know, I just - it’s comfortable here.”

“I know that, I do, - probably not as well as you - but…” Todd sighs, setting down the bag, and approaching Dirk slowly, hands outstretched. “You're not doing yourself any favours just sitting around here.”

Dirk looks up at him as Todd settles his hands on his shoulders, and when they meet eyes, Todd summons up a smile.

Somehow his argument works, and fifteen minutes later, they leave the house with a back stuffed with snacks, and Dirk disguised. The trek through Seattle - Todd decided walking would be better - loosens Dirk up a little, until he's practically skipping ahead of Todd, shoulders free of tension.

They catch a midday session off some awful straight rom-com that makes Todd cringe more than he'd like. Still, it gives them something to talk about when they elate the theatre, laughing about how stupid the protagonists were and how awful their choices were. They're halfway back to Todd’s house when Todd suggests they stop for lunch, casting a cautious glance at the sky. It looks like it's going to rain, soon.

They get Subway because it's the closest place to where they are, and almost as soon as they get inside, the heavens open and it begins to pour outside. Dirk laughs a bit, and they wait as long as they can, inside, after eating, for the rain to go away, but if anything it just gets heavier.

Dirk suggests they make a run for it and Todd replies, “For five blocks?” Dirk just grins, and so what can Todd do?

They make a run for it, for about a block, and then Todd gets out of breath, so they have to slow down. Two blocks after that, they’re both soaked to the bone, out of breath, and laughing. It's almost like Dirk’s crisis didn't happen.

A block after that, Dirk kisses him, mouth warm and wet in a different way to his hands, cupping Todd’s cheeks, cold and damp, and it shouldn't be fucking romantic, because Todd’s shivering and they're soaked and in the middle of a downpour, and yet.  _ And yet. _

They stay out far too long in the rain, and when they get back to the house, they drop all over Todd’s carpet, but despite the shivering Dirk’s practically glowing.

They take separate showers, and they pile blankets over themselves on the couch, trying to ward away the colds that they're sure to come down with, now. They forget to have dinner. At ten, Todd careful extricates himself from Dirk’s arms, and climbs the stairs, reluctantly, to his room.

Three hours after that, two and a half after he fell asleep, there's a knock at his bedroom door, and in his sleepy haze, Todd forgets that Amanda’s away. “Fuck  _ off _ , Amanda,” he groans.

“Okay, then,” says Dirk, closing the door after him.

Todd’s up like a shot and racing after him. Dirk’s at the top of the stairs when Todd throws the door open. “No, sorry, what was it?” He says, trying not to show dizzy he is from getting up so fast.

Dirk watches him, carefully, in the half-light of the skylight. “You weren't there when I woke up.” He looks a little embarrassed to say it, but Todd takes it face value.

“Do you,” and he takes a deep breath, because he's baring way too much of his soul, right now, “do you want to sleep in here, then?”

It's probably a mistake, but then Dirk nods.

~

Dirk will pretend later that he doesn't know which one of them started it. He knows it was him. He knows Todd was hesitant, knows why he was, too. He starts it, for sure.

And Todd doesn't stop him.

It's nearly two in the morning, and his mind has never been so loud and so quiet at the same time, Todd’s hands slipping, cold and tentative over the skin at his stomach.

~

Todd is awake when he hears a window downstairs clatter open. He’s staring out the far window, perfectly at peace with this moment, Dirk’s head resting on his chest, and then he hears a bang from downstairs, and tries not to jolt so violently. He carefully extricates himself from the bed, finding his boxer shorts on the floor to put on, climbing down the stairs with caution.

He's never had to deal with a home intruder before. He picks up a chair from the second landing and carries it, legs up, as he creeps into the living room.

He screams as he leaps out into the open, brandishing the chair, violently. Amanda screams back, nearly pushing Martin back out the window in her panic. Todd drops the chair once he realises it’s her and helps her pull Martin through the window.

“Why the fuck did you break into your own house?” He demands, once they’re both safely in the living room.

“There’s like a hundred people at our front door, dude.” Todd blanches in confusion and Amanda rolls her eyes. “I texted you.”

“My phone died last night.” He explains. “A hundred people?”

“Paparazzi. Media. There’s a few news stations out there, too. Someone let slip that Dirk’s here, I think.” Todd’s stomach can't drop any further at Martin’s gruff words. Amanda hands him her phone, open on all-caps tweets accompanied with pictures of him and Dirk kissing in the rain, the night before. “And someone saw you guys together last night, the pictures are all over the internet.”

“What?” And Todd turns when he hears feet thumping down the stairs. It’s Dirk, clad only in his boxer shorts and a hoodie, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Amanda glances between them with amusement in her eyes. “Dirk.”

Amanda’s open phone is still in his hand. Todd can’t believe he’s done this to him.

“Amanda,” Dirk says, frowning, “and Martin? Oh, hello.”

“Hey, Dirk,” Amanda greets him with a cheerier wave than Todd thinks fits the occasion. “Just a heads up, everyone knows that you’re here.”

Dirk’s face drains of colour, and he laughs nervously. Todd’s skin feels prickly with shame and guilt. “What?” He asks.

Amanda sighs, sympathetically, and takes her phone from Todd, handing it to Dirk. Dirk’s face becomes steadily more and more dismayed as he scrolls. He hands it back to Amanda after a tense and silent minute, looking close to physically ill.

Todd can hear the chatter from outside now.

Dirk nods to her and then rushes up the stairs. “Are you gonna go after him?” Asks Martin, from behind him.

Todd supposes he has no choice, even if he has nothing to say. Dirk’s texting someone as he puts on his clothes when Todd hesitantly enters the room. When he looks up at Todd, his eyes are red.

“Oh.” He says, and there’s something deliberately sharp in the word, in the curl of the corner of his lips, shaping the word. “Hi.”

He has no way to explain his guilt away, but he has to at least try to get that look off of Dirk’s face, “Dirk, I-“

“You know what, Todd?” Dirk interrupts, sending the text and clicking his phone off. “I think my biggest mistake here was trusting you.”

“Excuse me?” Todd splutters, incredulously. In all the time he’s known Dirk, he’s never been cold. But, then again, he hasn’t actually known Dirk all that long.

“I just mean, if I had stayed at home, I would’ve had my whole support system, and I wouldn’t have gone out,” he says, ticking off each of his points on his fingers, “and if I  _ had _ , I  _ certainly _ wouldn’t have been photographed kissing some stranger nobody.”

He takes a step back. It's like Dirk’s flipped a switch in himself, doing away with the softness and turning his cruel up to eleven. Todd didn't even know Dirk  _ could _ be cruel. “Is that what you think of me?” He questions, half insulted, half understanding.

“It’s what  _ they’re _ going to think of you. See, Todd, now that you’re in the public eye, they’re  _ always _ going to wonder  _ who _ you are and  _ how _ you ended up kissing me.” Dirk gets to his feet, picking up every bit and bob that happens to be his, and stuffing it in his jeans pockets. “I think my big mistake here was trusting you, despite not really knowing you. I never would’ve gone out if you hadn’t persuaded me to.”

“So you’re saying it’s  _ my _ fault?” Todd demands, flushing in embarrassment.

“Are you saying it’s  _ not _ ?” Dirk fires back.

He stares. Dirk’s holding the yellow jacket in his hand like it's a weapon, and yet at the same time like it disgusts him. “You’re blaming me.” Todd says.

“Who else is there to blame?” He laughs, humourlessly, and then thrusts the jacket at Todd’s chest, moving past him, onto the landing outside Todd’s bedroom. “My sister is coming to pick me up in half an hour, and I don’t want to see or speak to you in that half an hour. Or ever again, actually.”

Todd tries to follow him down the stairs, “Dirk-“

“Please respect my privacy and leave me the fuck alone.” Dirk hisses, holding out a hand to stop his progress. Then his shoulders lose their tension and he sags. His next words are said with a sad amusement, “Enjoy your five minutes of fame. Hope it was worth it.”

He rushes down the stairs, past Amanda, coming up from the second floor, and out into the living room. Todd stands, numbly, at the top of the stairs, and then sits himself on the top step. Amanda does all the way up, and then seats herself on the step below his feet. “What’d he say?” She asks, quietly, though she probably heard about half of it anyway.

“He’s leaving.” Todd replies. The yellow jacket is lying, crumpled, in his bedroom doorway. “He never wants to see me again.”

She turns to look at him, a sympathetic and pained look on her face. “Todd…”

“No, he’s right, it  _ is _ my fault. He was wrong to trust me, and I’ve ruined everything.” He puts his face in his hands, muffling his next words.  _ “I’ve ruined everything.” _

“No, you haven’t.” Amanda says, quietly.

“Yes, I have.” Todd replies, into his palms.

~

Bart bundles him through the crowd and out to the car Ken’s driving. She slams the backseat door behind her and then flips the bird at every photographer yelling and pressing themselves up against the windows of the car. Ken drives fast away from the house.

“You got here fast.” Dirk comments, quietly, and Bart turns to him, expression melting from aggressive to searching.

“Yeah, well, Scott called me as soon as the news broke, and I got Ken to drive me up here as soon as I knew.” She reaches out and squeezes Ken’s shoulder, and he reaches up for a moment to squeeze it back, before putting his and back on the wheel. “All I needed was an address.”

“Okay.” Dirk slides into his seat, properly, plugging in his seatbelt, as Ken comes to an intersection. Some of the photographers have given chase, but there's no way they'll catch up. It doesn't matter. The damage is done.

“Mom’s saying we should both fly home, now.” Bart says quietly, hesitantly. “She thinks it'd be good for us.”

“We can't go home, right now, Bart.” Dirk replies, tiredly, rubbing his eyes to get rid of whatever lingering sleep is there, and also to rub away any stray tears. “We’ve still got five episodes to shoot.”

She huffs, and scuffs the carpet with her shoe, “I know, but shooting’s already stalled, and-”

“No.” He snaps, and the. Turns to the window, feeling guilty for taking any of his anger out on her. “We’re going to finish shooting, and then we’ll go home.”

Bart doesn't speak to him for the rest of the ride, just rests her head on the shoulder of Ken’s seat and murmurs things to him, at irregular intervals. Dirk falls asleep fifteen minutes after they pull away from Todd’s house.

~

**One Year Later**

 

_ All You Get From Love by Todd Brotzman _

 

**3 Questions, 1 Answer**

**Not Your Watson**

**Fix Everything**

**Weaponized Soul**

**Team Poncho**

**Orlando**

**The Perriman Grand**

**You Deserve To Be Alone**

**All You Get From Love Is A Love Song**

 

 _Yes, it is the album of the year, for sure. Todd Brotzman’s hit debut album_ **All You Get From Love** _is the soft rock underdog of this years music scene. Just seven months after being spotted in Seattle with_ Project Blackwing’s _sweetheart actor, Dirk Gently, Todd Brotzman released three singles in quick succession to the public, each hitting in the top ten of_ Billboard’s Top 100, _for over three weeks, each_. _Not only has he got a rocky past with the music and television industry, Brotzman’s debut album plays with genres and moods, from the soft nostalgia of_ **Orlando** , _which hit over four thousand streams after being released, to the hard rock of_ **You Deserve To Be Alone**. _We have Todd in the studio today to tell us a little more about it, hi Todd._

_ Hi Litz. It's great to be here. _

_ Great to have you. So you kind of came out of nowhere with your singles, but I'm told this is not your first time in releasing music. Am I correct? _

_ You are, unfortunately. In my early twenties, I played lead guitar for a band made up of my college friends called  _ The Mexican Funeral.  _ We broke up pretty quickly, as you can well imagine, since there wasn't much of a market for mid-two thousands alt-rock in 2012. Also because I attempted to steal the bands equipment and pawn it off to make rent, because I was broke. Not my proudest moment. _

_ I can imagine. One of the songs on your album was actually originally a  _ Mexican Funeral _ song, right? _

_ Yeah,  _ **Team Poncho** .  _ That was co-written by one of my band mates, but it never made it onto a set list, so I worked on it for a while, and it made it onto the album. _

_ Fans are saying it's one of your more relatable songs, along the lines of  _ The Lazy Song  _ by Bruno Mars. However, it's not just relatable songs, as we all know. When the album debuted, there were tweets everywhere about your songs  _ **Weaponized Soul** _ and  _ **You Deserve To Be Alone** .  _ Are fans correct in assuming these were written in the wake of your relationship with Mr Gently? _

_ No comment. _

_ Come on. You've gotta give us something. You declined an offer from  _ Genius Lyrics _ to talk about  _ **You Deserve To Be Alone** _ and continue to be quite cagey about it. It seems like a very personal response. _

_ That was a song that just kind of fell out of me. It was like the lyrics and the music were already written, and when I went to write something they just appeared. It happened in a time when it was way too important to leave it on the album, but I don't really like talking about the guts of it. It was written in anger that I don't feel anymore. _

_ Can you tell us if any of your songs do pertain to a certain Mr Gently? _

_ Yes. I wrote the first draft of  _ **3 Questions, 1 Answer** _ around the time of our second meeting, and polished it up after that. He definitely inspired it, there's no way that I can deny he didn't have anything to do with it. It's one of the only love songs I have on the album, and it's the only song I wrote while we were together. _

_ But it's not the only love song on the album!  _ **Fix Everything** _ has to be your most played song, and it's also the softest and loveliest song we’ve heard in the last few years. Can you tell us anything more about it? _

_ I wrote it about three months after I last saw Dirk, and it's the song that helped me decide what I was calling the album.  _ **Fix Everything** _ was the song that kind of dug me out of my funk, and it has a sick drumline thanks to my sister. _

_ Your sister, Amanda Brotzman, did all the drumming on your album? _

_ She did, and for that I'm very thankful. I felt comfortable leaving the songs in her capable hands. _

_ As we all know, Amanda Brotzman is the showrunner for the upcoming spinoff of  _ Project Blackwing,  _ starring Project Incubus, called  _ The Rowdy Three.  _ She was also in a band in her youth, I hear? _

_ Yep,  _ Pararibulitis,  _ who are still touring, was the high school garage band my sister started up and was subsequently kicked from. She swore she'd give up drumming forever, but when I asked her to drum for my album she told me it was lucky she loved me. _

_ I believe she also features in your song  _ **Orlando.**

_ She does. I wrote  _ **Orlando** _ when I was fourteen years old, on our way back from the family vacation to Orlando, Florida, having spent six solid hours in the backseat of my car, playing I-Spy with Amanda. It's gone through tonnes of work shopping to be what it is today, and it's one of my proudest achievements. _

_ Now, you mentioned the name of your album a bit ago. _

_ Yeah,  _ **All You Get From Love** .  _ That's a shortening of  _ All You Get From Love Is A Love Song  _ by _ The Carpenters.  _ A cover I did of the song features at the end of my album, and I named the album after it for a few different reasons, the first being that I thought it was funny that only after everything between Dirk and I ended did I write him a proper love song. The second being that when we first met it was in my music store, in Seattle, and I sold him the  _ Carpenter’s _ album,  _ Passage,  _ which has  _ **All You Get From Love Is A Love Song** _ on its track list. _

_ How interesting. I'm sure fans won't know what to do with that information. I think we have just enough time to talk about your last two songs, but to be sure let's keep it quick. _

_ Well,  _ **The Perriman Grand** _ is about the job I had right out of college. I worked as a bellboy in a ridiculous outfit in a local fancy hotel, and the song depicts the guest who got me fired from it.  _ **Not Your Watson** _ was co-written by Amanda and our mutual friend Tina Teventino - yes the screenplay writer - based on how angry I get while consuming any detective media. I've been known yell at the TV while watching BBC’s  _ Sherlock,  _ “he is not your Watson, asshole!” which is what sparked the song, and a similar line appears in the chorus. _

_ And I'm afraid that's all we have time for, today. Thank you so much for coming in, Todd, we’re in love with your album, and hope to see you win big at the upcoming Grammy’s. Now, it's  _ **Not Your Watson** .

~

https://www.youtube.com/watch?x=Yq BaOfd1HDv

 

[The footage is grainy and obviously zoomed in on an old smartphone. It's a panel at some kind of convention, with the cast and production team of  _ Project Blackwing,  _ including Amanda Brotzman, who’s fielding about as many questions as Dirk Gently. He looks tired even though he's smiling. The next question comes in from a girl near the front of the panel.

_ “Dirk, what do you think of Todd Brotzman admitting that he wrote his album about you?” _

Behind the camera, someone whispers,  _ “Oh, what the fuck are you doing?” _

His smile flickers a bit. Amanda answers for him.  _ “Actually, I think you'll find my brother has not confirmed anything in terms of writing any of his songs about Mr Gently, and as he said near the start of the panel, he will not be taking questions about Todd’s album, thanks.” _

The girl persists.  _ “But he did! Todd said  _ 3 Questions, 1 Answer  _ was about Dirk. What do you think of that?” _

Dirk pauses and then leans into his microphone.  _ “I think it's quite a job to take the blame for a love song, so I'll thank you not to ask me any more questions about it.” _ ]

 

**Last Project Blackwing Panel Part 8**

Marxzannna

Subscribe | 80,217

 

**Published 11 Oct 2018**

10/11/18 Comic Con Panel - sorry for the occasional commentary; i can’t stand stupid questions. BUT!!! also Dirk quoted All You Get From Love Is A Love Song in his response at  11:03

~

“Did you know,” Tina says, lying upside down on his couch as they attempt to watch  _ American Ninja Warrior _ on the TV, “that Farah and I have been engaged for almost six years?”

Todd is in the middle of shoving five sour patch kids into his mouth so he just grunts in response, and raises his eyebrow at her. Her laptop is open on the coffee table, displaying half of a screenplay draft that Todd’s not supposed to know anything about. It's half of a screenplay draft that Todd has been proofreading for her. Hobbs would be furious if he knew she was sharing it, and would be significantly less furious if he knew it was Todd she shared it with.

“Yeah.  _ Wendimoor’s  _ coming into its sixth season, and I proposed to her the day she got the job to write for it.” Tina continues, staring, blankly, at the TV screen. “We haven’t organised anything for the wedding. No date, no venue, no outfits. Do you think that’s sad?”

“Sure,” Todd says through the sour patch kids. “I mean, do you  _ want _ it to be sad?”

Tina shrugs.

“ _ Are _ you sad?”

“I guess. I mean, I barely see her, these days. Between my work and hers, we barely live in the same house anymore.” Tina thumps her fists against the rug and frowns. “She’s an executive producer on  _ Wendimoor _ now, she has responsibilities I can’t even dream of, and we’ve been engaged for six years. Isn’t it like after seven you have to repropose?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never proposed to anyone.” Todd responds, and she slaps his shin, half-heartedly.

“I just - neither of us are doing anything about it, and-“ she groans in frustration, covering her face with her hands. “I don't wanna talk about this, it's too embarrassing.”

“Okay,” Todd says, eyes on the screen, but otherwise unseeing, “what  _ do _ you wanna talk about?”

“How about,” Tina begins, in a challenging tone, “we finally talk about what happened between you and Dirk?”

“Why would I want to do that?” He asks, rolling his eyes. He gets asked about Dirk a lot, too much, he thinks; he shouldn’t have to field questions at home, too.

“Because ever since you released your album, everyone's been connecting the dots back to when you were together?” She suggests, nonchalantly.

Todd scoffs, tossing a chip at her. “We were never together. We texted a bunch, kissed a bunch, and had sex once.”

Tina sits up, suddenly, eyes wide, “You had  _ sex _ with him?”

“God.” He groans, shoving her by the shoulder. “See?  _ This _ is why I didn't want to talk about it.”

“You  _ never _ told me you and sex with him.” Tina practically shrieks. “That's  _ way _ more serious than fooling around in the rain.”

He leans back and looks at her through his eyelashes, sporting a grimace. “What will it take for you to let this go?”

“Oh,” she laughs, evilly, rubbing her hands together, “I'll  _ never _ let this go, Todd Brotzman.”

“Can’t we go back to talking about your relationship problems?” He pleads, hoping, foolishly, that she'll relent.

“Nope, we’re talking about you and Dirk, now.” Tina replies, smugly. Crushing his dreams of not having to confront all that shit, again. “If I talk about my deteriorating relationship I'll just cry.”

“Speak like Yoda then.” He suggests.

“Fuck yourself, you must,” she grumbles, in a gravelly voice, waving her hand like she's using the Force, “the fuck up, you must shut.”

“Ha-ha, very funny.” Todd deadpans, and smacks her with a throw pillow.

She sobers, smacking him back, and going slack on the couch, like she's lost all her energy, “I don't want to talk about it.”

“Why not?” He asks, as quietly as possible.

“Because it's fucking sad, Todd.” Tina groans back, rubbing her eyes.

“I wouldn't know. You won't tell me anything about it.”

“You're a manipulative fuck. Fine, I'm doing this rant-slash-lecture style.” She sighs, long and frustrated. “My fiancé is never home. Farah's never home, and while I'm well aware she's doing what she loves and what she's always wanted to do, and I am so desperate for a shred of time alone with her where I'm not constantly terrified she'll be whisked away by some emergency. Living like that is seriously wearing on me, and I'm not quite sure that she knows that.” Tina picks a sour patch kid out of the bowl between them on the couch and bites its head off, gesturing with its headless body as she continues. “Whereas, Dirk came to you when he needed a safe place to be, when he didn't know where else to turn. So, what does that say to you?"

"I don't know." Todd shrugs, and she smacks his shoulder, lightly, popping the headless sour patch kid in her mouth.

"It says that he trusts you, dumbass, or at least he did before the whole paparazzi fiasco. You made a mistake, it sucked, but it wasn't your fault.” Tina kicks the coffee table. “Farah and I keep fucking up in terms of the health of our relationship, and neither of us are lifting a finger to fix our mistakes. That  _ is _ our fault."   
  
Todd’s quick to protest, "I wasn't in a relationship with Dirk."   
  
"Maybe not, but you were in love with him.” She shoots back, and then cuts him off when he opens his mouth to protest, again, “Don't deny it. If he walked through that door and asked you to take him back because he loved you would you seriously turn him away? Even if it was the best thing to do?"   
  
"No." Todd agrees, begrudgingly.

"Exactly.” Tina’s hands fall, suddenly,still, in her lap, and she turns to him with a conflicted expression on her face. “Look, Todd, there are times when people want us to be at our best, and we just can't do that. They need us to be there for them and we disappoint them, or they need us to be as good as we can be for our own benefit and we just don't cut it."   
  
"Wow, that's comforting." He snorts.

"No, you're not listening. You didn't let me finish.” She groans, frustratedly. “Those times  _ happen _ \- no way to stop them - but I can promise you that you will be okay, and it's not the end of the world if you fuck up, monumentally. I know Dirk needed you, and I know you didn't quite fit the bill, but that doesn't mean it's over."   
  
"Doesn't it? He told me he never wanted to speak to me again, and he hasn't since.” Todd leans forwards, elbows on his knees. “He needed me to be a safe place for him to hide and all I did was wreck him, all over again."   
  
"Was that your fault?” Tina demands, voice sharp. “Could you have known it would all play out like that?"   
  
Todd turns to look at her over his shoulder and slowly replies, "No..."   
  
"No. You couldn't have.” She agrees, smugly, before sobering, considerably. “No one can predict what will happen if they take a risk, and the truth is that Farah and I have been on different pages to each other for a while. I'm even less likely to successfully predict what will happen if I take a risk.” Tina sighs, rubbing her eyes again. “It's time I realise my relationship with Farah won't stop deteriorating until I talk, rationally, to her about what she wants from me. Until we talk about if this is what's best for us, because even if I love her, if all we do is hurt each other, there's no point in staying."   
  
"Tina..."   
  
“Oof, that got morbid, didn't it?” She says, brightly, getting to her feet and shaking her arms, jumping on the spot, as if to wake her body up. “Shake it off. Imma pop some popcorn, and when I get back, we change the subject.”

“Tina,” Todd catches her hand, as she moves to go, and gives her a significant look when she turns to look at him, “you know I'm here for you, right?”

“Yeah, I know, Todd.” Tina agrees, rolling her eyes and patting his hand. He knows she means it though; he can read the sincerity in her eyes.

~

He and Bart lived together when they moved to America to start their careers, and they never stopped owning the place, they just also happened to start living half in hotel rooms, as well. Working on a TV show that takes place in different fucking parts of the continent will do that, he knows, but it's great when he gets to be home.

Of course, now Ken is living with them too, which is only kind of awkward when Dirk walks in on something he doesn't want to. Ken’s nice company, though, when he's not being smothered by Dirk’s suddenly over-affectionate twin sister.

More often than not, Ken’s got work to do, when they're all home, being a full time editor, but the last season of  _ Project Blackwing  _ will be out soon, so soon enough Ken’s going to have to transfer to something else.

(“I was thinking of moving onto  _ Wendimoor _ ,” he says over dinner once. Bart says that's a great idea. Dirk picks at his food.)

But otherwise, there's no one else he'd rather live with. No one else would put up with his relentless complaining.

Except when she's playing Todd’s songs in the kitchen while she cooks.

Bart doesn't cook often. It's something they both picked up from their mother, who is a fantastic cook and also fantastically lazy. Bart’s making a chilli chicken dish, and humming along to  _ Weaponized Soul _ of all things. Todd’s voice is great, as much as it pains Dirk to say.

_ “I think you know how I felt back then, but how can you know now?”  _ Todd’s recorded voice sings, echoing off the tiles of the kitchen backsplash.  _ “We’ve been apart so long, now, I don't think you know that I've weaponized my soul.” _

A guitar riff fades in, sharp and angry, and Dirk winces. Bart’s jamming, apparently unaware that Dirk is there. He clears his throat, and Bart turns on the spot, spatula in hand. She freezes when she sees Dirk. The song fades out. He prays it's a playlist.

_ Team Poncho  _ starts playing and Dirk curses his naïvity.

“You know,” he says, straining to keep his tone conversational, “I think it's been a very long time since I've been angry at you.”

Bart just stares at him with guilty eyes. She's usually so uncaring; he guesses she knows she's crossed a line, this time.

_ “You can wear your designer clothes, looking real slick,”  _ Todd’s inconvenient recorded voice rasps to the tiles, and neither of the twins make a move to turn it off,  _ “I'll be fine, chilling in my poncho, looking like shit.” _

“Can you pause that?” Dirk asks, trying not to sound pleading.

Bart finally moves to pause the music, and then reaches across the counter to pick up an opened letter. “This came in the mail.”

It’s an invitation to Tina’s wedding, addressed to Dirk and Bart. “You know Tina?” He asks, momentarily distracted.

“Through Hobbs,” She rasps.

“Ah.” Dirk says, and then drops the invitation back on the kitchen counter, folding his arms over his chest. “Why were you playing Todd’s music.”

“‘Cause it's good?” Bart offers half-heartedly.

“I know, I've listened to it.” Dirk replies, rolling his eyes. “Didn't you know I was at home, today?”

She winces, “I  _ didn't _ .”

He rubs a hand over his face, “God, Bart-”

“Can we just, like, not have this fight?” Bart asks, almost pleading, which is strange for her.

“Would you rather have it in front of mom?” Dirk asks, half-serious.

“That's in  _ four months _ .” She tells him, matter-of-factly, all high and mighty, all of a sudden. “Get over yourself. You're  _ not _ still going to be angry at me listening to your ex’s hit album in  _ four months _ .”

“I might be.” He says, haughtily.

She snorts, “And you're just going to spend the entirety of Tina’s wedding avoiding him?”

“I'll talk to Amanda.” Dirk retorts.

“Amanda’s  _ his sister _ ,” Bart insists, gesturing with her spatula, “and  _ also _ likely to force you two into a closet to hash out your feelings. You  _ can't _ still be angry about this in four months.”

“Try me.” He threatens, and stalks out of the room.

“Dirk-“ she makes a half-hearted call to him, and then falls silent. He won't be angry in four months, which is a shame, because their mother likes to mediate their fights.

~

Todd actually didn’t know Dirk would be here. Which is stupid, because Dirk starred in Tina and Hobbs’ latest award winning movie - of  _ course _ he’d be at Tina and Farah’s wedding.

(Tina and Farah had had a tearful reunion right before the Oscars, this year, and after Tina reprofessing her love for her on live television, they sat down for a long talk about their relationship and emerged with a date for the wedding. Todd has never been so proud of two people in his life.)

Todd truly just wasn’t expecting it, wasn’t mentally prepared to see Dirk Gently across a courtyard and have to face that they’ve made each other’s lives hell for almost a year. Todd drinks the other half of his champagne quickly after that.

Amanda stops in the middle of a sentence and gives him a weird look. “You okay?”

Martin wordlessly picks up a new, full champagne flute and hands it to Todd, a knowing look on his face. Todd gives him a grateful look and manages to gulp down half of that one before Amanda snatches the glass out of his hand.

“Calm down, sparky,” she hisses. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Dirk’s here.” Todd responds, casting a look st him over her shoulder. He’s looking back this time, goddammit. He starts walking towards him. Todd’s eyes widen. “Oh, god, he’s coming this way.”

Amanda’s eyes widen too, and she shoves the champagne flute into Todd’s hands, bundling Martin away with her as Dirk approaches, watching Amanda’s retreat with narrowed, confused eyes.

“Do they usually run away from social interactions?” Dirk asks, nonchalantly, as he arrives beside Todd.

“When they don't want to be a part of them? Yeah.” Todd replies, laughing a little, half-nervous, half-amused. “How've you been?”

“Oh, alright.” Dirk sighs, brushing imaginary dust off the shoulder of his suit jacket - which is turquoise. How Todd didn't spot him earlier is a mystery, truly. “I'm alive, which is one thing, I suppose.”

“Being alive is the first step towards being other things.” Todd agrees.

“True.” He pauses and then turns to look at him, full on. “How about you?”

“I've been too many things I think.” Todd says, tiredly. “You never told me being famous was busy.”

“Oh yes, it's just being busy.” Dirk agrees, sounding sympathetic. “You get used to it after a while, promise.”

They stand in silence for a moment. Across the courtyard, Tina and Farah are cutting the cake. They look really happy. Todd had been in the audience with Amanda when Tina had won her Best Original Screenplay award, and she'd taken the time she had for a speech to repropose to Farah. It'd been romantic as hell. They were both trending on Twitter within the hour, and didn't stop trending for two weeks.

And now they're okay, and they're married, and so happy. Todd’s so happy for them, he just wishes Tina had mentioned to him that Dirk would be here.

“I hate to sound narcissistic,” Dirk begins, slowly, as Todd’s taking a sip of his champagne, “and I understand if you don’t want to tell me - especially considering that the last time we spoke, I said I never wanted to see you again - but did you write  _ 3 Questions, 1 Answer  _ about me?”

“Of course I did.” Todd snorts, feeling kinda awkward at the change of topic. “I told you that when I was writing it.”

“It didn’t have a name, then.” Dirk comments, excusing himself through his tone.

“Right.” Todd grits. He hates this. He’d never say, but he hates this. They’re so stiff by each other, unwilling to let go, just yet, still hurt by the others past failings. “Well, yes. It is about you. So is  _ Fix Everything _ , and  _ Weaponized Soul _ .”

“I didn’t know that. I mean, I guessed with  _ Weaponized Soul _ , but  _ Fix Everything _ was so light.” Todd looks at his shoes. “I didn’t - I thought that was you moving on.”

“It wasn’t.” He says immediately. “I thought you’d know better than anyone that the best love songs are written with a broken heart.”

“ _ Carpenters _ .” Dirk laughs, under his breath.

“Yeah. First conversation we ever had was about them.”

“You told me you were an aspiring-slash-ex musician.” Todd sips his champagne and Dirk gestures to him, vaguely. “Now look at you.”

His throat is dry, “Guess I have you to thank for that.”

“Are you kidding?” Dirk demands, and Todd finally looks at him. His eyes are narrowed, his arms crossed over his chest. “ _ You _ wrote the music,  _ you _ promoted the album.  _ I _ had nothing to do with it.”

“All my best songs are about you.” Todd replies. “Without the photos of us kissing in the rain, no one would give a shit about me. What I did to you boosted my musical career.”

Dirk’s lips form a pout, and Todd forces himself to look away, feeling his cheeks heat up, “When you put it like that-“

“I’m not saying it’s a good thing,” Todd interrupts, realising how it sounds, “I’m just saying that without you I’d still be running that music shop.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Dirk points out.

“It’s not.” And that’s the truth. He’d given the shop to Lydia, who was delighted. “It’s just not what I wanted.”

There’s a pause. Todd finishes his champagne. Dirk taps his fingers on his thigh. Then he clears his throat and Todd turns to him. “Is  _ this _ what you wanted, then?” Dirk asks him.

Todd considers it. Is it what he wanted? Did he want to be alienated from Dirk because of a stupid mistake? Did he want a thousand likes in every Instagram post? Did he want pressure from his label to get to work on a new album? “I’m actually not sure.” He admits, lowly. He’s not unhappy with his position. It’s just not what he expected.

“Okay, look.” Dirk says, on a sigh, looking at Tina and Farah who are laughing at each other, icing smeared on the bottom half of each other's faces. “I know we parted on bad terms-“

“ _ That’s _ a way to put it.” Todd mutters.

“I want you to come to Romania with me.” He tries not to drop his champagne glass as he startles at the proclamation.

Dirk doesn't seem to notice, not even when Todd’s tone is a bit strangled in his question, “Why Romania?”

“It’s where my mother lives.” He answers, loftily, looking far away. “Bart and I are going to visit her in three weeks, since I'm shooting parts of a movie over there and she's been begging us to visit for a long time, and I’d like you to come with us.”

“Why?” At this, Dirk does look at him, and he bites his lip. Todd holds his breath. This is the question that could make or break him.

“Because I miss you.” Dirk replies, softly, like he's almost unwilling to say it. The answer doesn't quite make sense, especially considering that the most time they ever spent together was when Dirk was on the run from the press. But they'd messaged all between encounters, so Todd supposes he could have been missed.

“I don’t think that’s a good enough reason.” He says, mildly. He means it, but it hurts to say it, anyway. “What if someone sees us together? I don’t want to drag you into another scandal.”

“If someone sees us,  _ I _ asked  _ you _ .” Todd makes a  _ hmmph  _ noise, in the back of his throat and sets his empty champagne flute on a stone pedestal, beside him. “I was angry last time. It wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry that I made you feel that it was. I want to make it up to you.”

“By going to Romania with you to meet your mom.” He says, and Dirk nods, giving him a hopeful, hesitant smile. It's so stupid that this is happening, it's so stupid that Dirk is saying this to him, and it's sounding appealing-

“Have you ever been to Romania?” Dirk asks him, wistfully, totally milking this for all that it's worth. “It’s beautiful.”

Todd crosses his arms over his chest, sighing, “It’s stupid that I’m considering it.”

“Just think about it and let me know.”

Before Todd can tell him he  _ doesn't want  _ to think about it, Farah rushes over, a blur with black curls in a stylish white suit. Her hand around Todd’s wrist in like a vice. He forgot how incredibly intimidating she could be. “Todd! I need you to help me separate Panto and Silas! There’s media here, and if it gets out they’re together we’re done.”

“On it.” Todd replies, as she half drags him across the courtyard to where Silas and Panto are canoodling by the decorative hedges. He doesn't see Dirk for the rest of the night.

~

Despite what Dirk assumes were Todd’s best efforts, he ends up sitting next to Dirk on the plane to Romania.

Thankfully enough, Todd has songs to write and Dirk has a script to go over, so they're almost completely separate from each other for the entire fifteen hour flight. When they arrive, though, it's a different matter, being stuck in customs together for half an hour, and waiting for check luggage for fifteen minutes after that. And then Dirk insists they share a cab to his mother's house in the Romanian countryside, which takes an hour and a half, with the cab going as fast as Todd had bribed the driver to go.

(Despite coming to Romania with him, Todd still looks reluctant to be anywhere near him, which Dirk supposes he can understand, but doesn't like.)

When they arrive at his mother's, Bart’s standing on the front porch, dressed softer than he's seen her since they were teenagers. She's probably wearing one of their mother’s cardigans, because it looks familiar, but even growing up Bart wouldn't wear a pink cardigan like that. She helps them haul their luggage up into the house, larger now from extensions he and Bart helped pay for, and inside Ken is helping Dirk’s mother cook dinner.

Bart and Ken left early to spend more time with Hanna before Dirk arrived, and he thinks they probably made a good decision. She looks very comfortable having Ken around. He wonders what Bart’s said about him to their mother, wonders how his mother will greet him today.

When she does, however, it’s only with the usual excitement and happiness. She hugs him tight, whispers that he's been away too long, and when he says she missed her, she smiles and repeats it back to him. He shouldn't have been scared she would reject him because of a stupid fight he had with Bart weeks ago, now. She can be harsh, they all can, but Bart gets over things quicker than him, always has.

Todd is welcomed with open arms and is enthusiastic in how he immediately fits in with e organised familial chaos. Dirk nearly dies when his mother leans over the table during dinner and gushes over his album, citing how much she loves it. Todd very pointedly does not look at Dirk for the entire conversation.

Then he goes to set up his room, saying goodnight to everyone but saying he's exhausted from the flight. Bart and Ken bow out with a very flimsy excuse for their quick escape, and Dirk tries to remember exactly how thin the walls are here, as he clears his plate.

“Svlad.” His mother says, as he's stacking the dishwasher, and he turns to her, a tired smile on his face. She looks older than he remembers. Her red hair is streaked with grey. She was only twenty when she had them, but she's always said their family goes grey early. Hanna looks tired, but happy.

“I know,” he sighs, seeing the look in her eye that says she wants to talk.

“Do you? I did not know you were a mind-reader now.” She shakes her head, all faux-concerned. “What are those American’s teaching you?”

“Witchcraft,” Dirk mutters, and starts collecting up all the plates.

“Svlad,” she says, again, passing him a plate. He doesn't look up at her this time. Her tone’s changed. “Why did you stay away so long?”

“You know why,” he responds, quietly. “I wasn't in a good place. I didn't need you to see me when I was at my worst.”

“That is my job,  _ fiu _ .” Hanna tells him. “I  _ am _ supposed to see you at your worst. What did you have to be ashamed about?”

“I'm sure you saw the headlines. The pictures.” He closes the dishwasher and leans against the bench, staring at his feet. “I had a lot to be ashamed about.”

Hanna makes a  _ hmmph  _ noise and crosses her arms over her chest. “You did not talk to me for a  _ year _ , Svlad.” She doesn't even sound annoyed, just sad. He hates that he made her sad. “All I heard about you was from the media or from Vanda.”

“I'm sorry.” Dirk says, “I'm not good at asking for help.”

“No, you are not.” She agrees, and he tries not to feel hurt by the certainty in her tone.

“I just thought it would be better to deal with it on my own.” He explains, gesturing, minutely, with his hands. “I can't heap every problem onto you. Not every  _ big thing  _ is a big thing.”

“No, Svlad.” She snaps, and he finally looks up. Hanna Cjelli has never been a harsh woman, she has always been soft and polite, and a little outspoken at times, but was never harsh to him and Bart, growing up. She looks frustrated now. “Big things  _ are _ big things, does not matter what you think of them. And I am your mother, you are meant to come to me with the big things. I am meant to help you fix things. You have never come to me with your problems and I do not know why.” She walks forward, unsure, and takes his hands in hers. She has callouses on her hands, too many years on the monkey bars as a child and then endless gardening after they moved into this house from London when he was a child. “I do not know why  _ you _ are the one paying off Vanda’s contract debt. I do not  know why you made your bed and lay in it, when you could have come to me. I do not know why you decided you did not need me.”

“I do need you.” Dirk insists to her, and she scoffs, squeezing his hands.

“Is that really what you think, or are you just saying it to humour me?” Hanna smiles up at him. Dirk remembers the days he realised he was officially taller than her. Bart teased him about crying over it for weeks. “ _ Fiu _ , I love you and I would never judge you, especially not when what you did started with you protecting your sister. I just would like to be able to protect you too, and you are not letting me.”

Dirk squeezes her hands. “I'm sorry.” He murmurs.

“Do not be sorry, just let me be your mother.” She pulls him into a hug and Dirk tries to keep his breathing easy as he hugs her back, tightly.

He doesn't know how long it is afterwards, but eventually he pulls away. Hanna brushes a lock of too long hair behind his ear. “Your  _ iubit _ is very polite.” She comments, lightly, turning towards the stairs.

“He's not my boyfriend.” Dirk says, rolling his eyes.

“He wrote you a love song.” Hanna shoots back.

“ _ After _ we ended things.” He adds.

Hanna puts her hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine.” She relents. Her voice is an interesting mix of Romanian and British, completely his father's fault, Dirk guesses, but it lilts beautifully in a comforting way. “But he wants to be your  _ iubit _ again.”

Dirk exhales, frustratedly, “Mom!”

“Sorry,” she laughs, and hurries up the stairs. He may complain, but he's missed this.

~

Three days into his stay in Romania, Todd’s recovered from his jetlag and has the start of two sings written. Dirk’s out, shooting scenes from his movie, and Bart’s gone with her mother to the farmers market, in town, leaving Todd in the house with Ken.

Ken’s pretty quiet, Todd’s found, only really when speaking when spoken to, but he s noticed he mutters under his breath whenever he's scrolling on his phone or typing on his laptop.

He's sitting on the porch, now, and he's muttering angrily. Todd’s looking for inspiration, so he made himself some coffee and came outside to join his sole companion.

“Do you think it's weird that Hanna calls them Svlad and Vanda and they call each other Dirk and Bart?” Todd asks, suddenly. Ken doesn't seem startled, but he stops typing abruptly.

“Not really?” He replies, carefully. Todd looks over his shoulder at him. He looks thoughtful. “Sometimes Bart picks and chooses which she'd like me to call her, so I don't think it's weird that she does the same here.”

“It's just because their mother only calls them their birth names.” Todd continues, sipping his coffee and gazing over the green fields in front of the house.

Ken snorts, and leans back in his wicker chair, “I think she's probably biased in favour of the birth names, in all honesty.”

“You're probably right, there.” Todd agrees.

“You know that's how she introduced herself to me, right?”

“Hm?”

“Bart.” Ken clarifies. “She introduces herself to strangers as  _ Vanda Cjelli _ , sometimes, as a joke, and she did it to me. She almost always immediately follows it up with _ just kidding, it's Bart Curlish _ , but when she was in high school, she made an indie film for the local film festival and it won an award, and since I'm a foreign indie film nerd, I'd seen it, so when she introduced herself to me as Vanda Cjelli, I immediately recognised her. One of the reasons she likes me so much. I'm good at keeping secrets.”

Todd snorts, “Then again, you just told that to me, a virtual stranger.”

“Well, Hanna likes you so I like you.” Ken replies easily. “She's a fantastic judge of character.”

“I'll take your word for it.” Todd sips his coffee again, humming a few bars over and over again, wondering which lyrics to plaster it onto.

~

Two weeks after arriving, Dirk’s finished up his shooting here, and next week he’ll have to be on a plane to Norway. In between shoots, he's managed to get only slightly awkward dinner with Todd and he’s apologised, profusely, to Bart in the car about going off at her, a month ago. They're getting ready to drive Todd back to the airport. He's got to go and do writing sessions for his new album.

“Are you  _ kidding _ me?” Bart asks, staring at him from where she's sitting in the driver's seat.

Dirk sighs, and sinks further into his seat. “Don't make me say it again,” he moans.

“You  _ love _ Todd?” She demands, glancing between him and the road. “After making such a big deal about me listening to his music?”

“Why else would I have invited him home?” He mumbles into his palms

She scoffs and suggests in a mocking voice, “Because you're obviously a masochist?”

“Bart!” Dirk cries, looking up at her.

“You  _ love _ him.” She repeats to herself, quietly, rubbing her eyes, as if waking up. “Jesus  _ Christ _ .”

He sighs. He and Todd have put aside their difference for the entire trip, and neither of them have mentioned what happened in Seattle, so it seems to make sens Ethan any feelings he had for Todd prior would come back. It doesn't mean he has to like it. “I know, it's so stupid. But I mean, I can't-”

“No, don't start.” Bart holds up a hand, looking vaguely pained. “When are you  _ ever _ going to see him again?”

“After  _ Scissors For Swords  _ Tina wants me to help her develop another film.” He tells her.

“Of course.” It’s not an  _ of course  _ tone of voice. “So Seattle after Norway?”

“Yeah.” Dirk agrees.

Bart leans her head on the steering wheel, and says, “Dirk…”

“I know, but mom’s excited and so is Tina.” Of course he knows what it sounds like. It sounds like he's only doing it so he can be near Todd, and while that’s not exactly incorrect, it’s not the only reason. He's reaped nothing but benefits from working with Tina. “And if it means I see him more, even if he doesn't want me like that, again, I'll take it.”

Bart takes a deep breath, pausing for a moment. She's not a particularly meaningful person if she doesn't want to be. “He's going to break your heart, again.” She tells him.

Dirk furrows his eyebrows at her. “You don't know that.” Todd opens the back door, tossing his bag into the backseat.

“I do.” Bart disagrees, and Dirk rolls his eyes.

“Thanks for your faith.” He says to her, as Todd settles in the aback. They don't speak about it until they see him into customs,

~

**Todd Brotzman’s New Single** **_Because (Thanks For Your Faith)_ ** **Has Rumours Running Wild**

“You are not a subtle man,” Amanda comments, hefting her backpack over her shoulder. _The Rowdy Three_  had a good run, and now Amanda’s transferred to  _ Wendimoor _ , much to Farah’s elation. Amanda’s writing partner, who she met on _The Rowdy Three_ , is called Beatrice, Beast for short, and she's waiting with Martin in the van outside. They're going on a trip together, and Amanda keeps stringing out her goodbye.

“I'm not,” Todd agrees, fitting a beanie on her head. She's talking about the sudden onslaught of conspiratorial articles about Todd’s new song being about Dirk. They’re not wrong, but they don't need confirmation. “Why are you acting like you're going away forever?”

Amanda shrugs, a small smile at the corner of her mouth. “Because I’m leaving you alone for  _ two weeks _ .”

“I’m not your kid.” He reminds her.

“I know.” She agrees.

Todd picks up her duffle bag and holds it it to her, “Don't do anything stupid?”

“Can't promise anything.” Amanda says, winking, and she takes her duffle bag from his hand, heading out the door to the idling van. Martin gives him a curt wave out the window, then he kisses Amanda in the cheek, and they go speeding down the street.

Once she's gone, he settles onto the couch with his laptop, beginning to read the articles about his new song. He wrote  _ Because (Thanks For Your Faith)  _ while waiting for his plane in the Romanian airport. He had only heard the end of Dirk and Bart’s heated conversation, and the words  _ thanks for your faith  _ really stuck with him. He wrote it in forty-five minutes, and had the chords and lyrics sent to his producers before he stepped onto the plane.

The rest of his album is written now, and going through the final stages of editing, but they decided to release  _ Because (Thanks For You Faith)  _ early, in an attempt to gather listeners interest. It's worked, and actually done more than that. Todd kind of hates how transparent he is in the song, but the producers loved it.

**_Because (Thanks For Your Faith)_ ** **Has Us Scrambling To Interpret It,** **_Beautiful Mind_ ** **Style**

**Todd Brotzman’s New Single Is The Third To Hit #1 In The Charts Within 36 Hours Of Release**

**Top Ten Theories On Todd Brotzman’s New Single** **_Because (Thanks For Your Faith)_ **

Every single article ends similarly.  _ Dirk Gently could not be reached for comment. _

Todd snaps his laptop closed and gets up, grabbing his jacket in the entryway. He's got to go apologise to Dirk. He had let him know the New Single would be coming out today, but this is ridiculous.

When he opens the front door to go, however, Dirk’s already standing on the other side, fist raised to knock. “Ah,” he says, as Todd freezes in place, “hello Todd.”

“Dirk,” Todd croaks, and clears his throat, “I was just coming to see you.”

“About the song?” Dirk asks, and Todd opens the door idea for him to come in. “Yes, Buzzfeed is being particularly nosy. I don't want to block them, but I might have to.”

Todd winces, closing the door behind him, and putting his coat in the coat rack. “Sorry.” He says.

“No, don't be sorry,” Dirk waves him off. “The song’s really good.”

“It's not that.” Todd persists, following Dirk as he strides further into the house. He's gotten comfortable here, while he’s been staying with Farah and Tina. Apparently, Tina’s new film is coming together swimmingly. The newest trailer for  _ Scissors For Swords  _ came out the day before, so Dirk must be elated. Todd would hate to be spoiling his perpetual good mood with his new single. “I just don't want people peering in on your personal business, again.”

Dirk scoffs, rummaging through his fridge, and emerging, victoriously, with a half empty bottle of peach iced tea. Todd keeps it there because he knows Dirk like it. He guesses they could be classified as good, friends, now. He really likes it, even if it will never be enough for him. He blew his chance, so being Dirk’s friend is enough.

“I've gotten better at tuning it out. Doesn't bother me as much, anymore.” He says, shrugging, and getting a cup down from the cupboard to pour iced tea into. “Just so long as you're happy as to how the song’s being received.”

“Oh, the overall reception has been incredible, really.” Todd tells him, ecstatically. He leans on the doorway to the kitchen and swallows, with difficulty. “What I really want to know is what you think of it.”

Dirk swallows a mouthful of iced tea and rolls his eyes, good naturedly, “It's  _ really good _ , Todd, you know this-”

“No, I mean-” Todd groans and rubs his eyes- “Dirk, you  _ know _ I wrote it about you.”

There's a long pause. Dirk drinks the rest of his iced tea. “Yes, I do.” He agrees, lowly. “Who else would you write  _ widen the gap, if you want, just know I'd follow you to the edge of the map  _ for?”

“Dirk.” Todd says, frustrated. Dirk sighs.

“I know.” Dirk says, sobering, and rubbing the back of his neck, nervously. I just…”

“Okay, look,” Todd turns around and stalks out into the living room, needing space for this conversation, “I know we’ve already had this discussion, as uncomfortable as we were, but I'm sorry about what I did, me if you'd have me I want to try again.”

“Todd…”

“Please let me down easier this time.” He says, shakily.

He's staring at his shoes, but he knows the moment when Dirk stops in front of him. He puts his hands on Todd’s cheeks. “I'm not going to let you down at all.” He says, softly. Todd looks up; Dirk’s expression is sheepish. “I'm just not sure if we're ready to try again.”

Todd hastily tries to backtrack, “If you're not-”

“Are you?” Dirk interrupts.

“I…I am.” And with that, Dirk kisses him. Todd had forgotten what it was like, but now he's floating. He's so missed this. Last time didn't last anywhere near as long as he wanted it to, he's got to make this count. He grabs Dirk by the lapels of his stupid yellow jacket at Todd gave him so long ago, and pulls him flush to Todd’s chest. Dirk gasps.

When he finally pull apart, they sit down together on the couch. “So,” Todd says, twiddling his fingers in his lap.

“Where does that put us then?” Dirk asks him, quietly.

“We’re gonna try this again, properly,” he says to him, with a sure tone of voice, “without all the secrecy, and with more time together, and we’re not going to blame each other for stupid mistakes that was no ones fault.”

“I like that idea.” They sit like at on the couch for a long time, just ignoring everything else. Todd feels Iike he could fall asleep there, in Dirk’s arms, finally able to have what he wants. His phone pings. He ignores it.

Todd pulls out of Dirk’s arms when his phone pings five separate times within a minute. It's five texts from his mother.

**Mom:** _ Todd Brotzman did you know your sister was eloping? _

**Mom:** _ she's marrying that tv punk man _

**Mom:** _ did you know??? _

**Mom:** _ call me!!! _

**Mom:** _ if you knew about this and didn't tell me you're dead, do you hear me? _

Todd frowns. His phone pings again. Tina, this time.

**Tina:** _ Dude, Amanda’s getting married? And I was wasn't invited? What gives? _

He opens Instagram and sees on her story that she and Martin are getting married, in the wilderness somewhere, their celebrant Beast, in a maroon suit. He texts really a string of heart emojis and then a message that reads  _ invite me next time? yeesh, you secretive gremlin. _

Then, Todd looks up at Dirk and shows him the picture of Amanda flipping the camera off on her story all the while showing off her engagement ring and Dirk laughs. “That seems like Amanda. She didn't tell you?”

“Not a word.” Todd says, shaking his head. “She seemed buzzed this morning, but I us thought it was the coffee.”

Dirk laughs again, and gathers Todd up in his arms, again. “Well, if that's what makes them happy.”

~

“...and in the category of Best Actor In a Leading Role, the Oscar goes to…” Todd’s hand is tight on his, but he's just numb right now. He doesn't care if he wins it or not, but it'd be nice. Amanda and Martin are a seat or two down, watching him with hopeful eyes. “Dirk Gently!”

The applause is deafening. Todd helps him to his feet and kisses him firmly on the mouth before gesturing for him to go. Everything’s a blur as Dirk makes his way up to the stage to collect the award. People clap him on the back, there's wild cheering, but Dirk can't focus on any of it. He only knows once the statue’s in his hands and he's facing the crowd he needs to find Todd.

It only takes a few seconds, but he makes it.

“Uh,” he says into the microphone, and receives a few titters back. “Right, wow,okay. So, first of all, I'd like to that Tina Teventino. Without you, I never would have come close to this award, and it was your brilliant mind that came up with  _ Men of the Machine _ . Um, then it's my mother and my sister, for always being there and supporting me no matter what. And. And, I'd like to thank my boyfriend, Todd.” Amanda cheers from the audience, fist pumping excitedly. “We’ve been through some hard times but you never gave up on me, not even when I wanted you to. Thank you so much.”

They don't get time to play him off. Dirk finishes up at the microphone and is ushered from the stage. His phone in his pocket is buzzing like crazy. Probably all notifications from Twitter, and texts from Bart and Mona and his mother.

When he finally gets to take a look at it, there's some emojis from Tina, a long paragraph from his mother, a  _ congrats  _ from Bart, and then a small message from Todd.  _ Always knew you could do it,  _ it reads,  _ love you so much. _

Dirk certainly does not hold his phone to his chest in lieu of replying, no sir. He texts back  _ love you too _ , and goes through the motions, backstage, until he can rejoin Todd in the audience. He thinks they gross out a lot of people by how much they make out when they're together again.

“So now you've got an Oscar under your belt,” Todd murmurs to him, as they present another song on stage, “now they're gonna call you  _ Oscar Award Winner Dirk Gently _ in interviews and stuff.”

“Because that means so much, Mr Two-Time-Grammy-Award-Winner.” Dirk murmurs back, and receives a light slap to his shoulder in return.

“I love you,” Todd whispers, and Dirk grins.

“Love you too.”

 

**fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you liked this, please leave me a kudos and tell me what you thought of the fic in the comments, because I'd love to know. Hmu on Tumblr @nose-coffee for notifications for when I post fic. Once again, thanks for reading.


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